


Out of The Blue

by mukemagic



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: a little bit NBC heroes as well, but bear with me pls bc this is weird, i don't know what kind of AU this is but think xmen okay? ish, i was in the shower and thinking about how my mum said she'd might allow me to get a tattoo, it's so poorly written as well lol, like honest to god the most peculiar thing i have ever thought up, tbh i don't even know what happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukemagic/pseuds/mukemagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flipping on the lamp on his bedside cabinet, he inspects himself. He goes dizzy at the sight. There curled around his petite wrist, branding him, is the colour blue. He's heard about it on the news. Of course he had, it was everywhere you went. But that was nearly twelve months ago and everything had died down after 'The Blue Banders' was declared a <em><span class="u">CLASSIFIED CASE</span></em> which prevented any media from covering it again. Luke's read enough comic books and watched his fair share of films to know that either means that a) these people had some sort of ability that rendered them a threat or use to the country thus being locked up and hidden or b) they had been killed for their bodies to be experimented on.<em></em><br/></p><p>(or a sort of 5sos with powers AU??? idek)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. blue beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back? It meeee. Oh but anyway, please take note that:
> 
> 1) i didn't read over this so expect mistakes  
> 2) i basically have a weird mind  
> 3) my mother should let me have a tattoo
> 
> Okay, thank you, I hope you enjoy this weirdness xx

**_8._ **

Michael wakes up around 1pm, cursing as he realises he's missed another lecture. He flips on the TV for background noise as he heads in search of something to eat. The news is on, something about some scientist and genomes blah blah blah. The red haired boy had tuned out on spotting a packet of crisps to have as his late lunch/even later breakfast. His eyes flicker back to the screen. He barely registers the words scrolling across. Something about another science discovery. Something about blue rings. Probably something to do with space, he thinks. But Michael's not sure, his fingers are too busy failing to open his food. He decides that maybe giving the damn packet his attention may increase his chances of getting into the bloody thing. It is only then that he sees it.

"The fuck?"

The bag explodes in his hands, crisps flying in every direction. There's a blue band around his wrist. Not like a bracelet but as though ink is sewn into his skin. Like a tattoo.

 _"I woke up with it."_ A voice is saying.  _"A band of blue burned into my wrist."_ Michael looks up then, at the voice coming from the television. It's of a clip of a women, probably around the age of 28, with glasses perched on her nose and dark hair pulled back into a tight, professional ponytail. 

 

_**14.** _

The headache is what hits first, followed by a wave of nausea, then the sudden realisation that he is an idiot who drank far too much last night. Calum's pretty sure he ended up snogging his ex. Wait, no, there are pictures  _confirming_ such and shit, she's got a girlfriend now so that's a bit awkward. He prays he won't get a visit from the two females demanding he apologises because honestly, even if he is still friends with Gemma, the girl she's dating now is scary as fuck. The dark haired boy shudders as he sits up in bed. It is in the moment of bringing his hand through his hair that he notices it. The blue band wrapped around his wrist. Etched into his skin like another of his tattoos. And at first, he groans because of course he would end up getting a tattoo while inebriated. But then his brows are pulling together as he inspects the thing. There's no burning to it. No fresh scabbing like his others had. No inflammation nor slight bruises beneath the flesh. It's as though this was old. Like he'd had it for years. He's rubbing at it frantically and there's no pain to it. No hazy memory of needle piercing skin despite the vivid images of tongues in mouths like there was with Gemma.

 

_**5.** _

Damp curls are glued to his forehead, face pressed into the musty pillow, and fuck, he fell asleep on the couch again so his back is going to hurt all day. Or probably for the next three. He clambers up, body appreciative for release from the awkward position. Stretching long limbs and yawning loudly, eyes scrunched tight as he did so. He's nearly made it to the kitchen when he hears a gasp behind him. Automatically, he spins on his heel, finding his mother's shocked face and alert eyes. "What? What's the matter?!" The sandy blonde questions, panicked.

"Ashton Fletcher Irwin!" His name is bellowed, echoing around the hallway, the sound radiating up the stairs to where he pictures his siblings are now suddenly wide awake.

"Mum?" He is scared, unsure, eyes flickering over her face for signs of what is happening.

"When on God's earth did you get  _that_?" And huh? What is she saying? He follows her line of sight only to find a ring of blue, circulating around his wrist.

"What the fuck?" His own eyes are blown wide and he barely hears the lecture about cursing in their family home because his focus is on colour painted into his skin.

 

  _ **8.**_

Michael has been glued to his seat in shock for a good hour now. He's flipped through all the channels frantically. News report after news report covering the findings of that woman from earlier. Turns out she is a scientist. Works in a lab, too. During college she had experimented on herself to examine her genetic material. At the time, she had discovered the usual 46 chromosomes and substantial D2 receptor reduction which she put down to excessive alcohol consumption in college. Following the discovery of a blue band appearing out of well.. the blue, her science mind decided it best to retest herself. Out of curiosity. And for some reason, 46 was now 58. She had requested anyone to come forward for examination. Two males already had, apparently. Her conclusion the same as her own. Both with 58 chromosomes and blue clinging like a ribbon around their wrists. There was a phone number in bright yellow, flashing clearly and demanding his attention.  _"Anyone who has awoken with this, please do not hesitate to contact me."_ _  
_

**_5._ **

Having finally convinced his mother that he had done no such thing as get a tattoo whilst living under her roof, Ashton was sat in his room, hazel eyes fixated on colour that had appeared over night. His mother was shouting up the stairs. "Coming!" He yelled, thinking she was calling him down for dinner.

"No, Ash, honey, turn on your TV!"

"Oh holy fuckery." He gasped. 

 _"Two men have come forward admitting to waking up with unexpected tattoo-like bands on their wrists. That goes alongside scientist Maggie Stiller and another female. That's four in total. All have been shown to have increased number of chromosomes."_  The reporter continues on about the science of genetics but the sound is drowned out as the twenty year old reaches for his phone.

"Hello? Is this Maggie Stiller?"

 

_**14.** _

@gemmasteels: @hoodlum did you see that thing on the news? fucking weird

@hoodlum: @gemmasteels no wat r u on about? also are you even allowed to be talkin 2 me rn?

@gemmasteels: @hoodlum i do what i want #rebel and there's like been over 10 people who woke up with a blue tat on their wrist 

@hoodlum: @gemmasteels ur gonna get me punched ('; and sooo there's a serial tattoo artist, what's the big deal? 

@gemmasteels: @hoodlum that'd be hot ;D no cal, these people have been found to have like a million extra genes and shit than other people

@hoodlum: @gemmasteels fuck off no way

@hoodlum: @gemmasteels i'll talk later x

@gemmasteels: @hoodlum bye babe xx

Calum shuts off his phone and pulls up Google. His ex is right. The news seems to be fixated on the discovery of thirteen people who found blue bands on their left wrists. The dark haired boy begins to panic because, fuck, this definitely isn't a drunken tattoo then. He's gnawing away at his bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth, and with shaky hands he dials a number.

 

_**19.** _

He awakes with a start. Heart pumping in his chest like he's about to die. And it would seem melodramatic if it wasn't for how he is literally unable to breathe. It feels like he's inhaled cool, harsh water, it tearing away in his lungs like he's drowning. He's drenched with sweat, it dripping off him, pooling around him, and leaving a saltiness to his skin. Soaked to the bone like he's only just stepped out of the shower. But the thing is, Luke was lying in bed, well sat up gripping at his sheets now, desperate for the air to return to his lungs, and far away from any source of water. His wrist is burning. Like someone is holding an open flame to it. The pain is excruciating and it doesn't help in his attempt to try to regulate his breathing.

Flipping on the lamp on his bedside cabinet, he inspects himself. He goes dizzy at the sight. There curled around his petite wrist, branding him, is the colour blue. He's heard about it on the news. Of course he had, it was everywhere you went. But that was nearly twelve months ago and everything had died down after 'The Blue Banders' was declared a _CLASSIFIED CASE_  which prevented any media from covering it again. Luke's read enough comic books and watched his fair share of films to know that either means that a) these people had some sort of ability that rendered them a threat or use to the country thus being locked up and hidden or b) they had been killed for their bodies to be experimented on. _  
_

So that is what made the recently turned eighteen year old hide his own blue band beneath an excessive amount of bracelets and long sleeved shirts.

He's so scared. So  _so_ scared that he refuses to leave the house for days, telling his mother he feels ill, pretending that the reason he is so pale is due to some unknown sickness and not the panic running through his veins and draining the blood from him. He's constantly damp, anyway, so he can pull it off. Ever since he woke up to find blue clinging stubbornly onto whiteness, it is like he cannot stop how cold he is or the beds of sweat running down his face. And his mother wants to take him to hospital as a result but he's crying and screaming, pleading for her not to call an ambulance, that he's fine, just a stomach bug that will pass.

With worried eyes and a frown, the older woman has left her son alone. He uses the time to search whatever he can on these Blue Banders. Research is limited, most of it removed by people in higher power. But there are some things he manages to succeed in learning. There was a total of fifteen individuals who reported to have woken with blue on their wrists. What Luke doesn't understand, however, is how all had found the thing on their  _left_ wrist whereas the blonde's was on his right. They also hadn't felt any pain from theirs while the eighteen year old's throbbed now and then. Itched sometimes whenever he took a sip of the drink his mother had left beside his bed.

He thinks it best he goes for a bath. Hoping it will calm his nerves. The water is running, filling up the tub, the sound of it already soothing. But there's that itch again, beneath his skin, under the blue. Which only intensifies when he pushes his hand beneath the warm liquid, right up to his elbow. It tingles and his fingers are shaking. Vibrations causing ripples to dance along the surface of the water. Then suddenly, as though he is hallucinating, the blue seems to be running. Like paint being washed off skin. Spreading out and dispersing amongst the clearness of the water. But the frightening part is what goes with it, is the sight of his arm. He jerks back, bashing his back off the sink. Slowly, he watches as transparent liquid molds back into flesh. His limb returning. Again with the taunting blue band.

Luke is certain he has lost it. Or that this is a nightmare. Because arms don't just vanish under water and then return as soon as you pull it out!!

If this is a dream, he knows he would return to the bathtub and press his hands back in. And so, he does, trying to convince himself that he will wake up out of this if he scares himself enough. Again, he watches water swirl around and engulf the vision of his arm. He pushes in further, to his shoulder now, and once more, it is like he is becoming one with the water. Every time he brings his hand out, though, everything returns to normal.

_I'm crazy, I've lost it. I'm dreaming. I have to be. I probably need to piss or something and my subconscious is taking the mick out of me._

He no longer believes a bath is for the best and so goes back to his room.

There's only so many days you can go without showering, apparently. Or so his mother informs him as she's opening all his windows and declaring that his room is too stuffy for her liking. Luke isn't listening. He hasn't slept in about five days now. He is no longer drenched with sweat, thankfully that stopped on day two of this living nightmare. But spilling water and watching as a part of your foot disappeared was too much a shock on day 4 that he hasn't moved from his bed since.

His mother is extremely concerned and has announced how she has called for a doctor to come over. That pulls him from his muddled thoughts. "No!" He screeches. "I'm fine. I feel a lot better. I promise!" 

That's how he finds himself, hidden beneath an umbrella in the rain waiting for the school bus. But he's not going to get on it, he's decided he'll wait until he is sure his mother has left for work. But the universe seems to have other ideas, of course, because a van passes at speed, splashing a dirty puddle up at him, it soaking into his pants and causing him to curse. "Fucking wanker!" He's muttering repeatedly, hating on the world as he bends down to try to shake out the excess liquid. His pants lift only slightly and Luke is already anticipating it, fearing it really, but despite being able to  _feel_ his legs, they're not physical entities. Not clear to his eyesight. Luckily nobody is taking note of him, too busy with their own early morning to notice a teenage boy running home as though someone was chasing him.

He strips down to his underwear, noting how the sight of his flesh is returning slowly as the water evaporates into the air. The blonde has an urge to try something and so finds himself back in the bathroom. This time, the shower is running, steaming droplets falling down at speed, water on the highest pressure. Luke steps under it. Watching as his body vanishes into thin air. But he can feel himself. Can touch where his knee is even though he can't  _see_ it. Apprehensively, he puts his head beneath the spray. Everything feels like it did the day before the blue band appeared. Just this time, as he steps out of the shower to look at his reflection, there is no broad shouldered awkward teenage boy, in fact, there is no one staring back at him at all. "Oh my god!" He gasps. And he can still  _hear_ himself too.

The water is still running behind him, clouds of steam filling up the small room, but Luke is fixated on looking into the mirror, watching as he slowly returns into view as he dries himself with a towel. It's weird, because he can't see himself holding it, so it looks like the soft green material is floating by itself but he  _knows_ it is him. 

There is an opaqueness to his appearance now and he feels like a ghost. 

He hasn't returned to usual, well,  _human_ form when a knock sounds from his front door. "Shit, shit, shit!" He exclaims, frantically rubbing the towel up and down himself in a hurried fashion. But it's no use because his hair hasn't returned and he looks bald. He decides to wrap the towel around his head and one around his lower body. Luckily his body parts have returned to him, unlike his unreliable quiff.

Running down the stairs, he looks through the peephole to find two teenagers around his age standing on his front step. "Hello?" His confusion is evident as he opens the door to them.

"Hi." An attractive red haired boy returns, smile wide and green eyes sparkling. The more muscular guy beside him has a mop of dark blonde curls on his head, his smile doesn't really reach his eyes and his smile seems a little too wonky to be genuine. Luke doesn't feel comfortable any longer. None of them have said a word since their greetings. Just staring at one another. No, more like  _inspecting_  each other. The eighteen year old feels on edge. Like something is wrong.

"C-can I help you?" Luke inquires, gulping when he sees the muscles flex in the toned arms of the curly haired male.

The boy with bright hair nods his head in the direction of Luke's hand, which is gripping to the door frame. It is only then that the blonde (well currently bald as fuck) teen remembers. The band of blue on his wrist no longer covered by bracelets from where he had removed them to shower.

He tries as fast as he physically can to slam the door in their faces, but there's a foot preventing him and fuckfuckfuck he's going to die. Panicked, he tries desperately to conjure up a plan. _Backdoor? No, there could be more of them. Hide? Fuck no Luke they'll search everywhere. Upstairs? Never works in horror films. You're screwed, you're dead!_ But then it hits him.  _Water!_

The two males are in his home but they haven't moved any closer to him since he hadn't ran off. But they look ready to pounce. "Okay." He says as though he is going to continue. Instead, he is sprinting upwards. He's never hit those 14 steps hard enough in his entire life. Yet, the two males are just seconds behind him. The blonde slams into the wall just outside of the bathroom but he recovers quickly. And he's so grateful he left the water running, God is he so so thankful for his failure to acknowledge his mother's request about cutting back on water to save money. There's a hand clawing out at him, words like "Dude, hold up!" "Fuck he's fast!" being panted behind him but Luke's dropped the towel, ragging the one from his head and beneath the water before they've even had a chance to catch him. 

The strangers are stood beside the bath in wonder and shock, watching as Luke's naked form vanishes into nothing.

"Don't let him get wet!" The curly haired boy is yelling. The dyed haired male is smirking, humour in his eyes as he replies with "That's not what you said last time." His innuendo is not appreciated as the guy who appears older glares at him for a second before grabbing whatever parts of Luke still remain untouched by the spray. The blonde is trying to pull back, desperately hoping to disappear but he wasn't fast enough as his body is being pulled out and thrown to the floor. A towel is being wrapped around him, scrubbing harshly at his skin and Luke is trying so hard to escape their holds but the effort is useless. 

"Please, please, please." He is repeating over and over again, the sadness in his voice increasing as his body comes more into view.

"Sssh, it's okay." The red haired boy says in a soothing voice but it unnerves the blonde and suddenly there's a prick in his arm. When he looks to identify what caused the pain, there's a needle in his skin and he sobs out a loud no before his vision fades to black.

 

**_5._ **

"Literally, Calum, his dick just _vanished_."

Ashton is watching Michael explain to their other friend what had happened, all hand gestures and head movements. "Are we seriously talking about that kid's dick over dinner?" The older male asks as he plays with the potatoes on his plate.

"There was a lot to talk about." Michael is grinning and Calum laughs beside him. Ashton just rolls his eyes and mutters about immaturity when consecutively their phones buzz.

"It's Maggie." Calum informs them, but they've all got the same text, telling them to come down to meeting room just left of her office. Seventeen bodies make their way over immediately, all sharing glances. It's about 300 something days since they last found another Blue Bander and they're not sure what to expect.

The brunette is sat at the head of the desk when they enter. The seventeen each sitting around the table to join her. "My friends," She begins. "So as you may already be aware, Five and Eight" She's looking in the direction of Ashton and Michael now, "Located another of us Banders today. Of course none of us expected to find many more of us, it has been a while, since well, we found Eighteen before the government even declared us classified." The twenty year old is looking around the room at the other seventeen people he has learned to become friends with over the year. "But Archie, I mean _Seven_ ," She corrects herself, "Has been surveying web access to the topic, anything around us Blue Banders, channeled into the main frames and satellites. Our little computer whizz over here." She's smiling at the ginger, sat closest to her and whom she has come rather close to over the twelve months. That is his Bander Skill, to communicate with technology. Ashton was jealous at first until he saw how important a role it was. "Archie identified an intense search about us about a week ago, like an obsessive amount of time was spent attempting to find information on us. It sparked our interest for security reasons. The government would go nuts if we kept that kind of information from them, so let's keep that one between us.  _Anyway,_ " She claps her little hands together excitedly. "I asked Archie to keep an eye out for any of the residents accessing the internet at that IP address. Everything seemed... strangely normal. Just a blonde haired woman working as a maths teacher. But Seven accessed data and discovered that another individual lived there. A young boy of only eighteen. But there was no sign of him on CCTV. So I issued Five and Eight to survey the area, stay there for a few days in case there was any sight of him. And today, my friends, there was."

Archie blinks his eyes and the projector lights up behind her. A picture of the boy Ashton and Michael had brought in late this morning appearing on screen. "Luke Hemmings." She announces. "Number nineteen. Our water baby." Michael groans beside the older male, already hating the nickname she has chosen for the poor boy like she has done for the rest of them. "From Five and Eight's accounts, he appears to not be able to understand his abilities just yet. Additionally, what is interesting is how his band is on his right wrist. But what I find most fascinating," She is so excited Ashton is sure she is about to explode and appear as a rainbow in front of his vision. "Is his number of chromosomes." She pauses for dramatic effect. "59, ladies and gentlemen. _59._ " She repeats for emphasis. Then she is rambling about how surely is it a defect, an abnormality, like how some children are born with these duplications, resulting in additional genetic material. That this is possibly the cause for his band being on his right wrist rather than the left. Ashton feels sort of bad for the blonde (sort of early balding??) boy because that probably means Maggie is going to be stabbing at him for a while like she did him at the very start.

 

_**19.** _

Luke throws the tray of food at the wall, crying in frustration. He feels like he's a prisoner. Feet tied to the bed and surrounded by beeping monitors. It's only been three days since he woke up in this dusty pale blue room but it feels like so much longer. Everything is fucking blue and he wants to bleach the place. Or set it on fire until the colour is no longer visible because it is haunting him.

"Hey now, that was a good bit of chicken there." He hears a slightly (not really) familiar voice come from the doorway. It's the red haired boy who had came into his home and took him from it for what probably is forever.

"Go fuck yourself." Luke replies.

"Eh, did that this morning, I think I'm good for now. Unless you're offering? It's always better when there's two, don't you think?" The older boy is leaning against the doorframe, the cockiness radiating off him and Luke wants to strangle him, drown him beneath a large body of water. "Hey now, that's a bit unfair. I'm certainly not picturing doing that sort of thing to you. In fact..." He steps into the room, edging closer and Luke recoils in the bed. "Jesus, calm down and no a pillow would not make a good weapon." Luke is looking at him, freaking out because.. "Yes, I can hear your thoughts. Also, thank you for finding me attractive. Very nice for that to be your first thought of me. Most people's first impressions are of how damaged my hair looks or how 'this fucking prick is in my way'. Whatever. So it was nice to hear a more positive first impression for once."

Luke is gawping at him. And also blushing, like the burning of his cheeks is embarrassingly noticeable. The red haired boy is giggling. "I'm Michael." He announces, extending his hand.

"Luke, but something tells me you already knew that."

Michael just nods with a smile. But then it falls. "No, Luke, pulling me as hard as you can will not cause enough damage for you to flee." 

"Fuck." Luke exclaims, remembering how his thoughts of escape are clear view to the boy in front of him.

"I know you have a lot of questions. But I can assure you, no one is going to hurt you here unless you hurt them first. Okay?"

"Last time you said something was okay, you fucking stabbed me with a needle, so no it is far from okay." And like a petulant child, he folds his arms across his chest and pouts.

"So cute." Is the red haired male's last words as he leaves Luke to cry and scream in anger by himself.

 

_**14.** _

"Ashton, I swear to god, if you don't stop playing with your fucking candles, I'm going to electrocute you." Calum warns, the various scents ranging from a sickly vanilla to relaxing lavender greeting his senses.

"Rule three, thou shalt not use one's Bander Skill against another Bander unless for the greater good." Ashton says in his most serious tone before he chuckles to himself as he causes flames to flicker and dance with a small movement of his fingers.

Calum whines from where he is lay on his bed texting Gemma. She thinks he lives in England now, in university doing Electrical Engineering. It's sort of half-truth considering how he sure now understand the power of electricity and its uses considering he can manipulate it.

Michael knocks at their door, entering before they even say it is okay for him to do so. Nothing new there then, Calum thinks to himself/technically Michael too. "Smells like someone set fire to a garden of flowers in here." His nose is scrunched up in disgust. Ashton hushes him.

"What do you want, Mikey?" Calum questions, sitting upright.

"It's that Luke boy," He starts, pushing the dark haired boy over to perch next to him on the bed. It's been a week since he was brought in now. "He's requested for me?" Michael sounds so confused that even Ashton joins them, placing his hand on the boy's thigh and squeezing gently as a means of comfort.

"That's good right? Considering he hasn't spoken a word since the other day?"

"Yeah, but he knows my Bander Skill, he knows that I will be able to hear everything he hasn't said or doesn't say. So why after refusing to talk does he want to have everything accessible?" Michael points out. "And from the last time I was in his head, he is far too anxious and skittish a person that I'm sure he'll try something."

"You know what to do if he does though, right?" Ashton has his stern voice on, professional mode kicking in.

"Yeah. Project a calm state into their thoughts." Michael answers.

 

_**8.** _

Projecting calm thoughts into a bellowing Luke Hemmings is rather difficult it seems when the boy is pleading with the red head to let him go home. And he honestly doesn't mean to, like it was 100% totally unintentional when Michael casts the image of them kissing into the blonde's frantic mind. And shitshitshit, Maggie's going to hang him by his balls because that's against the rules.

But it seems to work. And when the image fades from the younger boy's vision, he is blinking rapidly, unsure of whether what he just saw happened or not. Because in his head, he had kissed back, though only because that was what Michael had projected to him. The older boy can hear the words running through the boy's head. So fast, a rambled internal monologue that Michael imagines would be similar to his usual spoken dialogue. 

_I just kissed a boy. I just kissed someone for the first time. And I'm tied to a bed. This is not what I envisioned for this sort of scenario should it have come about. Like maybe one time I imagined being handcuffed but that was one time and I'd had like far too much sugar that day. And oh god, why is he looking at me like that? Wait- Shit- fuckfuckfuck, he can hear me! Shut up Luke, stop saying words, think about silence, what the hell does silence sound like, wait that is too deep a question, just stop thinking, um, THUNDER ONLY HAPPENS WHEN IT'S RAINING-_

"Fleetwood Mac, really, Luke?" But Michael is incredibly amused.

 _I just want to go home._ And Luke's thought echoes around Michael's head as though it's his own. "I know." Michael voices aloud. "We don't always stay here. Only when we have to work or for training. So we can learn to understand our Skill."

It continues like that for two hours. Luke never saying a word other than those passing in his thoughts that Michael manages to catch. The younger boy sharing his fears and questions with the older who offers answers.

 

**_19._ **

It's been a month and four days since he arrived here. He's finally allowed to leave his room today. The ties had been removed two weeks into conversing with Michael after the red haired boy was sure there were no more thoughts of running away or attacking anyone. Luke is terrified. He's shaking as he steps out of the room to be met by many sets of eyes on him. This entire time, the blonde has only interacted with Michael, Maggie, Sarah (an English major turned Bander medic or so she babbles about at every chance she can) and occasionally Archie . He recognises the curly haired boy though, from the day he was brought in. He flinches at the sight of him, backing up slightly, back into the room. But Michael presses his hand to the arch of his lower back and pushes him forward. "That's Ashton, he's my friend." He explains but the older boy can still see Luke's mind playing memories of being chased by Ashton. So instead, he projects one of his own to calm the younger boy down. One of Ashton holding onto him tightly when the voices had got too much at the beginning, when all the thoughts had been too loud before he learned to control them or tune them out. How Ashton had rocked him to sleep, thinking about song after song in his mind to block out any other thoughts transmitting from anyone else. Luke seems to relax a little at that, only tensing again when Maggie suddenly shouts over at him.

"Water baby!" She greets and Michael can hear the profanities going through the blonde's thoughts at that name and so laughs behind him. "Welcome to the Banders!" 

And yes, Luke is so out of his depth in this group of people who have learned to control their abilities over a year ago. With bands gripping to the left rather than right. Whose chromosome count doesn't match his own. But apparently, he is one of them.


	2. deep dreamers diving club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael thinks his Skill is the worst of them all. He sees and projects things people shouldn't have to see. And it's all Luke Hemmings' fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i've had two deadlines since i last posted and i have an exam this week so this update is going to be the poorest of the poor. also, i've decided i might do some updates here and there for now? like not always 5000+ words, maybe a 900 chapter then a 6000 next back to 400, ya feel? just until uni stops eating me alive with deadlines and the workload. 
> 
> also don't ask me to explain the chapter title, i don't understand myself.
> 
> anyway, enjoy friends! (:

**_19._ **

"Oh my god!"

"For fuck's sake, Michael!"

"I did not need to see that."

There seemed to be a collective groan echoing around the cafeteria. All apparently related to being irritated by the red haired boy in front of him. Luke's brows were pulled together, forehead creased as he looked over to him, the question clear in his eyes.  _What is happening?_

"Nothing." Michael shrugs but he looks a little panicked, obviously attempting to dismiss whatever was going on. But his lie is undermined not even a second later when someone bellows "Seriously, Eight!" just three tables over, slamming their fist down and causing plates to rattle. Michael's turned the shade of his hair.

Ashton claps a large hand on Michael's shoulder as he approaches them, squeezing slightly and smirking down before he takes a seat next to Luke. "What a show, Michael." The older male says, amusement evident in his tone, glistening in his hazel eyes, flickering like a flame in the firey-red hues that surround his pupils. Luke feels like he's being left out. Something is going on and he isn't in the know. Like usual. Because he's the new kid, the youngest, the boy with the blue band on the right instead of the left, the one who doesn't know how to control his powers... the list goes on for all the reasons Luke Hemmings isn't a member of the in crowd. The blonde is pouting, bottom lip pushed out so far that he is sure it makes him look even younger and more childish than most of the Banders already view him. "Oh did young Lukey not get front row tickets?" Ashton asks now.

"Fuck off, Ashton." It's a warning and Michael's tone is so sharp that it startles Luke. The older boy puts his hands up in defense, muttering about how he was only kidding as he stabs at his dinner with a fork.

 _Michael?_  

Luke doesn't say it aloud. It's a regular occurrence, the blonde never actually voicing his words to communicate with him. It's.. nice. Because prior to waking up with this band on his wrist and before his life was flipped upside down, Luke had never been one to interact with others, always too self-conscious about talking in front of people, often even leaving him trembling with nerves just asking for a spare pen in class. 

 _ **I might have accidentally projected a picture to a few people's minds.**_ Michael's voice interrupts his thoughts. The pair are staring at one another as they speak non-verbally.

 _Oh dear.. was it bad?_ The red haired male fidgets in his seat and Luke watches how the muscles are tense beneath his milky white skin.

 _ **Stop analysing my body language, Lucifer.**  _Luke's eyes widen, Michael's words louder than previous, feeling as though they were echoing around his brain.  ** _Sorry._** It's followed by a sigh.  _ **It doesn't matter. Just eat your chips or I'll do it for you.**_ And with that, Luke pulls his plate even closer to himself protectively which causes Michael to giggle.

"I'm still here, yanno?" Ashton sounds like he is attempting to be annoyed, but is failing. It is only then that green and blue eyes tear away from one another.

"Michael I'm going to punch you in the dick in a minute!" Comes another unexpected cry, making the trio jump, this time the upset is coming from a raven haired twenty-something year old shaking at the vending machine.

Ashton snorts. Michael sighs. Luke is pretty sure he doesn't want to know what had happened any longer.

 

_**5.** _

"Michael decided to grace everyone's thoughts with Luke's dick over lunch today." Ashton says nonchalantly, as he lines up the candles in front of him, sat cross legged on the floor. Calum hums from his bed on the other side of the room. The older male takes this as encouragement to continue. "It was unintentional."

The younger boy sits up at that. "What?"

"He turned the colour of beetroot, swear to god." Ashton is explaining as he picks at melted wax on the carpet.

"So what you're telling me is that Michael can't control his Skill again because he's got a boner for some dude?" Ashton just shrugs his reply, causing Calum to sigh. "Great." But it's not great at all. Because they'd all experienced the week when Michael had discovered his new found celebrity crush on Harry Styles. God, was that an unforgettable, scarring week. Calum shudders, Ashton does the same, seemingly thinking about the same thing.

 

**_8._  **

Michael is slamming his head against the wall, hoping to literally knock the thoughts out of his mind. It's been like this for a week now, the heightened intensity of images and sounds. He doesn't know how it began. Okay so maybe, just  _maybe_ , he does. It was when he was on patrol outside of Luke's room (because even though the blonde's trusted a little better after being here for a month, Maggie still wants him watched; and apparently because Michael's been good at handling him so far, that makes him a good candidate for the 'Stop Water Baby From Losing His Shit' operation). So he might have channeled into the boy's thoughts as he slept that night. And saw some things he can't forget. Things like really,  _really_ graphic images. Involving Luke. And himself.

It's fucked him up, honestly. He can't concentrate on controlling his Skill because his mind is too busy trying to understand what's going on in Luke's. 

They haven't even known each other for that long. And even for two weeks of that, Luke had been scared of him.

Now though, oh  _now_ , Luke has the occasional midnight showing of _Michael and Luke: The Clothes-less Saga_. 

Awake Luke, however, doesn't seem to share the same thoughts as his unconscious brain, though. Which is what is confusing Michael. Like, okay, he himself has had raunchy dreams with people who have just popped up in his mind. But Michael's been patrolling for seven days now. Seven! And he's featured for five day's worth of dreams.

So here he stands, fidgeting, forehead pressed to the cold blue walls, by the eighteen year old's dorm at something close to 1am. He wants to complain to Maggie that this is pointless. And also psychologically damaging for him. And apparently the people who have been victim to his projections these few days.

_Blue. Blue. So much blue._

And Michael thinks maybe he's bashed his head too hard because it's all he can see.

_Never-ending blue._

Then his head aches, like brain-freeze and he's cold all over. He's dropped to the floor, knows he has, can feel it, but can't do anything about it because his brain is trapped on these images. Flashing blues. No  _crashing_ blues. Like waves. High and looming over him. Then there's a sound of a broken cry. He knows whose voice that is. Has witnessed him crying repeatedly with fear and frustration for a month now. _  
_

_Luke!_

There are hands on him, but his body feels like it's lifetimes away. In a distant future. 

He's being shaken. Feels like he's being thrashed about.

"Michael!" Someone is saying over and over again.

 

_**19.** _

Luke is gnawing at his lower lip, worriedly. He woke up at quarter to two in the morning to find Michael lying outside his room and someone who had once introduced themselves as Jack? (maybe it was James?  _Anyway..._ ) perched over him. Michael looked panicked, eyes wide and wet with tears. He looked how Luke felt. He himself had just woken from an intense dream.. well  _nightmare_ , really. It had began pleasant. The lake side his mother and he used to go to when he was little. Swimming about as the sun shone down on him. Making his bright blonde hair golden, like a crown. He had felt like a king amongst the blues. Waving about his arms, laughing, in his element.

But it had all changed dramatically and rather quickly. Soon the water got wider, deeper. Until he no longer saw his mother where she would sit by the lake, reading her book and occasionally look up to check on her son. 

So much blue. Engulfing him. Anywhere he looked: blue. Just the same  _damn_  thing. Glistening and powerful. Getting stronger and stronger to the point that the waves were knocking him about the place. Taking the air from his lungs. And he was frozen, unable to think with the cold. Head aching with it. His tears were being lost in the vast blues. Like they were nothing amongst it all. Like he was nothing in comparison to the water's power. It was overwhelming. 

 _Michael? Michael!_  He had heard though there'd been no one around to have said it, he'd been alone in this water. But the shouts had gotten louder and louder.

And then Luke had woken up to learn that someone was calling the red haired boy's name. Now he was staring down at a panting Michael. "You." He croaked, sounding wrecked. And Jack (John? Josh??) turned to face the blonde, looking confused and startled.

"You did this to me. That was  _your_ dream."

 

_**5.** _

"No penis projections today?" Ashton says as Michael places himself down next to him. The nineteen year old doesn't reply, not even his usual 'Shut up, Ashton' and it causes the older male's brows to crease. "What's wrong?"

He sees Luke enter the cafeteria, scan the room, blue eyes landing on their table, on Michael specifically, and then turn back around.

"What happened with Luke?" He is concerned now. "Look, he's blind if he doesn't think you're hot too-"

Michael cuts him off. "It's not like that." It's mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Maggie said we can't be around each other, okay?" The younger boy looks tired.

"What, why?"

It is then that Ashton learns of what happened in the early hours of the morning. How Michael's current loss of Skill control had led to him being unable to block out or even realise that he was linked to Luke's mind. So when the blonde boy had had a nightmare, one of which Maggie believes was as extreme as it was due to being related to Luke's skill, that unintentionally both Skills acted as forces against one another. And Luke's had won. Only because it had managed to gain control over Luke and not Luke actually overcoming Michael himself. Both Luke's inability to understand his Skill and Michael's current control issue basically meant disaster. And until one of them, 'preferably  _both_ ' as their leader had said, had some sort of control, they were to stay clear of one another. Which absolutely sucked, in Ashton's opinion. But more so Michael's because he wanted to say sorry to Luke having practically took off on him. Blaming the blonde for his own failure to stop being in the dreamer's mind. He'd been such a prick, storming off like he was mad at the boy when really he was frustrated with himself.

 

**_8._ **

mikey: meet me in cal and ash's room pls

luke: we can't, michael. maggie said so.

mikey: i'll come to you regardless if you don't and then jack will alert her. then i'll get a scolding. so either meet in the middle or prepare to feel guilty about getting me screamed at.

luke: jesus okay see you in a minute.

mikey: thanks

 

_**14.** _

"No, Ash, candles will not set the mood." Calum sighs, head in his hands because he's actually  _done_ with his curly haired friend. "This isn't some sort of date. Mike just wants to apologise."

"Candles would give it a romantic vibe though. Might make him forgive him quicker." Ashton suggested, causing the dark haired boy to groan.

There's a frantic tapping at the door and then Michael enters in his usual 'Michael comes in whether you like it or not, fuck your permission' manner. "Is he here yet?" But he answers his own question on seeing only two in the room.

It's a few minutes later that he can hear him before he's even in sight. Hears the thoughts, that is. The panicked  _"What if he yells at me again?" "What if Maggie finds out? I don't like her, she's really scary."_ and then the  _"Can I smell lavender?"_ That makes Michael laugh from where he's sat on Calum's bed. The pair stare at him like he's manic until he nods towards the door.

"That lavender's a bit strong don't you think, Luke?" Michael says as the blonde boy appears. 

Luke looks shocked. Forgetting for a moment that his thoughts were accessible to the red haired boy, probably more so now that he couldn't prevent them from invading his own. But then the thoughts in his head are ranging from _"Oh thank God he doesn't look angry" "Quick, get in and shut the door before anyone sees"_ back to the  _"Jesus that smell is too much"_. Michael's chuckling again but then winces, suddenly. He's failing to adjust to the extra head in the room. Maybe he shouldn't have been channeling for Luke's. It was too soon.

"I'm sorry." Luke says aloud, working away at his bottom lip. "I don't know what I did or how to stop it. I just-" Michael holds up his hand, and it's rude but the eighteen year old can tell he's in pain. Ashton is at his side, he's singing, the same song Luke remembers Michael projecting in the memory of them the first time he met the other Banders and had been frightened of the bandana wearing boy. Calum joins in. And Luke feels so awkward. Mind wandering through a load of thought processes that probably are not helping the red head. So he kneels down beside them and he's singing too. It's such a weird situation. Candles flickering behind them, soothing a nineteen year old as though singing a lullaby to a crying infant.

Michael's green eyes are locked on his blue ones. And weakly he says "I think you think too much." Trying to grin despite his struggle.

"I think so too." Luke whispers back, the other two boys continuing to sing. 

It's only a flash, and Michael's not sure whose mind thought it, whether it was even his own, but there was an image of Luke leaning in and kissing him. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

He's well and truly fucked.


	3. it's like you're my mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael's not the only one who's fucked. lol.  
> also hello new charrie alert, friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small little update because i was avoiding my revision /:

_**8.** _

“Well, well, well…”

Michael’s green eyes are rolling, already expecting for the next comment to be offensive.

“If it isn’t my favourite little Strawberry Shortcake?”

It’s like routine, every Monday morning when they’re in training together, Louis would sneak up on him and greet him the same way. Always with his repeated use of the word ‘well’ followed by some dickish comment about his hair colour or pale complexion. Michael’s response is to just ignore him. It winds Louis up something terrible. The elder boy is prepared, even at 9am on one of the worst days of the week for a verbal battle. Michael doesn’t give him the satisfaction, though, despite his constant attempts.

The next hour is similar. Louis saying irritating things, trying to rile him up, while Maggie sighs to herself. “Boys.” She sounds like an annoyed mother and sometimes Michael feels bad for her because she honestly does consider he and Louis to practically be her own kids. They’re her favourites. She can’t even deny it. Michael’s heard it in her thoughts. The two of them have the most interesting and powerful, so she views, Bander Skills.

You see, Louis is what Michael refers to as a frustrating pet parrot. Maggie, on the other hand, likes to call him Mirror Man. The older male can mould himself into anything he sees. Copy it until you’re unable to tell the original from the fake. Can even shape himself into someone else. But that is only effective if he has an understanding of their behaviours, so he can mimic them, and has heard their voice so he can echo it. That’s where Michael comes in. He can share that information so effortless with Louis. Connect to the person’s mind, learn of their mannerisms, hear their accent from their memories and then project it to him.

They train together to ensure their connection is strong. They are vital to the Banders. Because it allows Maggie to check up on where they stand in terms of the officials. All Louis has to do is impersonate someone in a meeting somewhere and it enables them to always be one step ahead if the government suddenly change their opinions on the nineteen individuals with the blue bands on their wrists.

When training is over, Maggie pulls the nineteen year old to the side. Michael instantly feels nervous. “Eight.” She begins, looking conflicted. “You did well today...”  He’s preparing himself for the ‘but’. “But,” Aha, there it is. “You still seem a little off your game. Have you been staying clear of Nineteen?” Her eyes are scanning his face for any signs of a lie when he shakes his head. “Very well.” And she looks disappointed. Michael hears it in her head as she leaves.

_I know, Michael._

He gulps.

 

_**14.** _

Calum is watching Ashton play with those darn candles again. It’s non-stop. Today the scent is honeycomb. And beeswax is everywhere. All over the desktop and Calum is about to lose his head about it. “Ash, put something down if you’re going to-” But he’s cut off when Michael scurries into the room, looking paler than usual.

“I lied to Maggie. She knows. She’s going to sacrifice me!”

“Woah, slow down.” Ashton says, flames flickering fast beside him where he’s dropped his control.

“What did you lie about?” Calum asks, frowning.

“Luke. About us sneaking around.” He answers. 

Calum sighs. Knew this would happen. Thought it would have three days ago to be honest, when Jack had caught Luke rush away with a squeak from their group having thought he’d been caught. Obviously he had been. “Jack’s a dick.” Comes the dark haired male’s reply.

“Why would she be mad, anyway? Your Skill has been improving, you’re practically unofficially training with Luke, fixing the connection you have with him. She should be happy about it.” Ashton says, blowing out his candles, grey smoke dancing upwards.

“She seems pissed.”

“Maybe because you lied to her. That would give her every reason to be.” Ashton is saying as he organises his candles onto the window ledge.

“He has a point.”

But Michael just groans and throws himself down, face first, onto Calum’s bed.

“Heeyyy, why do you only ever attack  _my_  sleeping area?”

“Because Ashton has like wax all over his.” His response is muffled by the pillow he’s mushed into his face.

Calum sighs. His friends are hopeless human (maybe not humans because hello hi 58 chromosomes??) beings.

 

_**19.** _

“You’re sitting here today.” Ashton is dragging the blonde towards their usual table, his large hand too hot around his wrist, right where blue is painted.

“I can’t!” Luke whisper-shouts, panicked. “Everyone will tell Maggie.”

“She already knows.” The curly haired male replies.

Luke squeaks. He really is afraid of that woman. But he is also very wary of the twenty year old who is pulling him towards Calum and Michael. So his feet are shuffling after him regardless.

“Hi!” Calum smiles, bright, eyes sparkling. The blonde just nods back.

He’s quiet the whole time they eat. Trying not to think too much as well, because he knows how difficult it can be for Michael recently to be in a roomful of so many people. All those words rushing through their minds. Slideshows of images and memories that can cloud over his own. So instead, Luke’s mind ends up playing  _Don’t Worry Be Happy_  over and over again.

“Luke.” Michael sounds tired, strained. Blue eyes look up from his barely touched plate and the red haired boy knows he has his attention. “Please change the track soon, otherwise I’m going to leap over the table and strangle you.”

“Oh.” He fidgets.  _Do you have any requests?_  Is the thought that comes to his mind, it seems a little sarcastic but also quite genuine of Luke to have asked and Michael laughs.

“What’s so funny?” The voice doesn’t belong to either of the four on the table.

“Louis.” Michael breathes out, seeming even more exhausted now.

“Bonjour mon cerise.” The twenty-two year old sounds like some French actor that Luke can’t put the name to, but knows he recognises from some film he watched with his mother. “Ah, Luke, we haven’t had the chance to introduce ourselves properly yet.” His icy grey-blue eyes are burning into him and it causes the blonde to squirm in his seat. “Cat got your tongue?”

And  _oh_ , Luke hasn’t said a word to him and that’s not polite. “I-”

**_No!!_ **

The voice echoes in his mind, causing him to flinch, and stopping him from continuing.

Luke looks to Michael, startled.  ** _Don’t say anything to him_.**

The eighteen year old is so confused.

“Ah, my cherry blossom, you always ruin my fun.” Louis is saying to Michael pretending to be upset, but his face breaks out into a wicked grin. “Don’t think I won’t hear him soon enough.” And then he leaves, fluttering away, so elegantly with a certain feline edge to it.

Luke is still staring at Michael, blinking away and forehead crinkled with bewilderment.

“Mirror Man.” Calum says, breaking the silence. “He can mirror things, people too. All he needs is your voice and he can pretend to be you.”

“Don’t let him hear yours.” Michael says but then he mumbles. “He’ll use it against me.”

Luke just nods, looking back down to his now-cold mash potatoes. But in his mind he says  _I thought you weren't allowed to use your Bander Skill against others._  There's a memory of Maggie sitting at her desk, across from Luke, telling him the rules she set up for the nineteen individuals so they could all live in harmony here.

_**You're not supposed to. But Louis is Louis. Maggie adores him. Let's him get away with murder around here. He locked Cal in a cupboard for a whole day once and walked around using his body. I only knew because the thoughts were Louis' evil scheming and pranks rather than puppies and sciencey shit that goes through Calum's brain. Maggie barely even told him off. Acted like a proud mother instead having learned how powerful Louis was. It was back in the early days, you see.** _

Luke gasps, causing Ashton and Calum to look at him. He's shocked by the idea of someone being so cruel, of course. But he's more startled by the image that Michael must have accidentally projected into his mind. His cheeks burn. And it's in that moment that Luke realises Michael hadn't only played victim to his water nightmare and instead..  _Oh gosh._

He's so embarrassed and he gets to his feet instantly.

"What is happening?" Calum asks, confused.

"I-" Luke doesn't know what to say, just backs away from the table slowly. "I have to go." He rushes out.

_Michael knows about the.. raunchy dreams._ Even his thoughts struggle to say the words.

He's fucked.

 


	4. do you feel it too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: we met impish louis, maggie knows that michael lied about seeing luke even though she suggested (requested) for them not to and michael accidentally revealed that he's seen luke's naughty dream.
> 
> now: semi angst muke moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am planning on updating every saturday. however, next week i'm going away so i might upload the new chapter wednesday or if i forget (in advance i am sorry) make you wait until monday (if i get home then bc i don't know how long i'm gone for lol)

_**19.** _

“What are you doing?”

Luke doesn’t reply, continuing to shove his belongings into his bag. He didn’t have much; he’d only been home once since Michael and Ashton brought him here. He’s been borrowing Michael’s tops most days and he’s currently wearing Calum’s black jeans he so kindly shared while his own are in laundry.

_**Luke.** _

The voice interrupts his thoughts and causes him to drop the socks he’d been stuffing amongst the rest of his stuff. He regains himself, shaking his head as though to shake away Michael’s access to his mind, bending to collect the escaped item that’s rolled beneath the bed. He still has not responded to the red haired boy who has now stepped into his dorm.

“Don’t make me go searching through your mind for the answer, Luke.” The nineteen year old sounds firm. “It would do neither of us any help right now.” It’s followed by a sigh, because knowing his lack of control, it would only result in some sort of projection disaster. Again.

“I’m going home.” The blonde whispers, he’s trembling a little, so nervous and unsure about how he might have messed up his new... well, was it a friendship or some sort of colleague relationship? Regardless, it was now very complicated, and he was extremely anxious and embarrassed that he just wanted to go home and cuddle up to his mum on the couch. “You said you convinced my mum I was on a school trip, right? Where did you say it was again? Camping?” He’s completely ignoring the older male as he tries to tell him that everything is okay, and tugs away from the hand that reaches out to grip at his forearm.

“Yeah... camping.” Michael whispers, sighing once more, sounding defeated as his hand drops to his side after his failed attempts. “You went with your geography class.”

Luke just nods, zipping up the bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He’s nearly at the door when Michael, who’s more determined now, catches his wrist, pulling him back. Tingles shoot up his arm, blue band icy cold where fingers are wrapped around it, and his vision clouds, a tinge of blue to it. The colour remains in his view until Michael drops his hand. “What just happened?” The older boy asks, voice remaining quiet as though he’s being cautious of scaring a small animal.

The blonde’s unsure what he’s referring to. The embarrassing projection incident in the cafeteria or the fact that the band on his wrist ached with a sudden coldness at the red head’s touch. His blue eyes are burning into the damn blue thing. The source of all his problems. “Do you feel it too?” Luke’s voice is shaky, like he’s about to cry. Michael blinks his green eyes, a little shocked, was he asking about  _them_? But then the blonde adds "Does it hurt you like it does me?" And that baffles the red haired boy.

“Which?” He replies softly, knowing Luke needs to be treated gently when he's anxious to avoid him panicking.

Yet, the eighteen year old hates how Michael is treating him so delicately. Like he’s the child most other Banders perceive him to be. “When it’s touched, does it hurt?” Luke’s eyes are anywhere but on Michael. “Your wrist?” He adds to clarify.

“No.” The older boy answers. “Why? Does it hurt you?” He asks suddenly, the concern thick in his tone. The blonde nods. “How so?”

“It’s like,” He pauses, sighing. “A burning. So intense. Either too hot or too cold. But always a sharp burn. Starts like a tingling, itchy sensation, like it does whenever I touch water. Feels like that.”

“When did this begin?”

“It’s always done it, whenever someone touches it.” His shoulders are drooped and the bag slides off one to the floor.

“Does Maggie know?” Michael questions and the blonde shakes his head. “She needs to know.”

“I don’t want to be her lab rat again, Michael.” His bottom lip trembles. “I just want to go ho-” His voice cracks and he can’t continue. A tear reluctantly escapes where he’s been trying to hold it back since he got into his room. It trails down his cheek and he wipes it away with the back of his wrist out of instinct, as he did when he was a child, rubbing snotty noses into sleeves. And when the salty liquid streams across the blue band, that itch returns, that tingling that causes both pleasure and pain.

It reminds Michael of the day Luke asked him to come to his ward in the infirmary. How the tall, broad boy had managed to make himself look so small, soft and vulnerable. As though he were years younger than him, not only a year gap. And Michael feels so bad, knowing he’s caused the boy to feel this way. All because he’d snooped in on his dreams and now was projecting things here and there. “Okay.” He replies, picking up the bag, putting it on his own shoulder. “I’ll take you.”

The blonde boy is shaking his head again. “I can’t. I need-” He doesn’t finish; his voice is too weak as a result of the throbbing lump at the back of his throat. He’s too embarrassed and upset with himself.

_I need to be alone right now._

He hopes Michael catches the thought somehow as he’s gently taking back his belongings and finally making it out of the taunting blue painted room.

 

_**5.** _

“Louis, give it back.” Ashton growls. It’s a warning and he’s like .03 seconds away from snapping.

But the twenty-two year old continues to juggle both the original and fake replica of his mobile up into the air. The giggle is grating at the curly haired male. Making his blood boil. Beneath his singlet, across his collarbones there’s a flush of red from where the sandy blonde haired boy is heating up with anger. He’s panting, hot air, like a bull prepared to charge. He’d expect steam to be coming from his ears if this was some sort of cartoon. But it’s not. There actually is someone _this_ infuriating in existence who loves to wind people up on a regular basis for their own entertainment.

“I love when you get so mad. It’s so…” Louis purposely hits his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he finishes with the word “ _Hot._ ” Followed by a wide smirk, eyes glistening with amusement and mischief. Ashton really is trying, not really wanting to let the curvy male have satisfaction but the trouble with the twenty year old is that he really struggles with his control sometimes. Not his Bander Skill control. His everyday life, don’t get mad for no reason sort of control. And Louis is highly aware of this fact and during times of boredom will use it to his advantage. “What are you going to do? Hmm?” He’s mocking him. “Surround me with candles and do a little flame dance show?”

Ashton blows up.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

But still there are balls of fire crushed between his palms. It would only take a simple flick of his wrist for him to do some _serious_ damage. He squeezes his eyes shut, tight. Picturing darkness. Clearing his mind. Trying to block out the mocking that continues in front of him. His entire body is trembling. As are the fingers that are grasping at the compressed flames in his hands. If he doesn’t sort himself out soon enough… Well Maggie is going to want his head and her precious Louis is going to be suffering from some severe burns.

He’s managed to focus on his thoughts. Can no longer hear Louis. He’s about a good minute away from either regaining himself or losing it entirely. He’s not really sure which way this will go.

A cold hand is on his left wrist. And it startles him, eyes shooting wide open instantly and he expects to have released the flames in some direction. But instead, there’s just steam coming from his palms.

He looks up to whoever is holding him. It’s Luke, looking teary eyed, wearing a coat as though he’s prepared to leave. Louis behind him seems… shocked. Ashton himself is. No one dares come near him when he’s in this mood. It’s too dangerous. But there is the small (well tall but metaphorically small) boy, looking childlike with watery blue orbs and trembling lip. The blonde steps back, knocking into Louis’ chest, who catches him quickly before he trips to the floor. No one has said anything. Ashton is just breathing heavily, blinking at the two males and bewildered.

Luke detaches himself, wordlessly, from the twenty-two year old and scurries out.

“Well fuck me.” Louis breathes out, amazement evident and hands Ashton his phone.

 

_**8.** _

“Michael?” Ashton taps at the closed door for the fifth time and yet there’s still no response. “Mike, it’s urgent, it’s about Luke.”

The door opens instantly after that and a snuffy nosed Michael is stood behind it. “What?” He mumbles.

And Ashton gestures his hand to his head, a signal they came up with during training once to symbolise how the curly haired boy was granting the younger male access to the thoughts rushing through his mind. Michael sighed, stepping backwards to allow his friend in before sitting down on his bed. “I don’t know what happened, really.” Ashton is saying as he joins him there. “I need you to see it, see the parts I missed when I was…”

“Did you have an episode?” Michael questions, looking suddenly worried at the thought of Ashton in his angry state being around Luke. Ashton gave a nod in response. The twenty year old’s memories are usually foggy, clouded by his rage, which prevents him from successful recall. But Michael can access them, look passed the repression and decaying thoughts to find out the things missed. The red haired boy closes his eyes and Ashton copies the action.

 _“Louis, give it back!”_ He’s got a clear picture of the Ashton’s memory at this point, which Michael notes as being due to the curly haired lad not being that mad yet. But gradually, an orangey tinge distorts the image, burning it at the edges slightly, like some sort of filter used for a film.

Everything goes black at the recall of Ashton closing over his eyes. There’s an echoing voice of the curly haired boy’s thoughts, counting backwards softly as he tries to regain control. Then Michael feels it in his own wrist, just like Ashton had then but had barely registered in his anger. It’s a coldness, engulfing the blue band, followed by a feeling like the blood is draining from him. Like cold water running down his arms, settling in the palms of his hands that had previously felt like they were being held to an open flame. The sensation of it all leaves behind a chill beneath his skin.

Both males open their eyes at the same time. “How did he do that?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me.” Ashton frowns. “I tried to ask him, but he wouldn’t open his door.”

“I wouldn’t imagine he would.”

“Why?”

“Because Maggie refused him permission to go home.” Michael sighs.

“What? How come?” Ashton is baffled. Their leader said they could come and go as they pleased.

“She gave some bull about him having not had his first training session yet and his lack of control being a danger to the rest of the group. Like expose us to the world if he’s seen in public. Damage the stupid cover up the government came up with about the Banders being a joke if some kid vanishes when rain hits him.” Ashton recognises the monotone voice his friend is using is his way of preventing himself from crying.

“Something tells me there is more to this then you’re letting on.”

“I can’t tell you right now.” Comes the red haired boy’s response, it’s whispered, nearly broken as the younger male tries desperately not to start sobbing.

 _What the fuck?_ Ashton thinks before he pulls Michael in for a hug. He needs to know what happened and ASAP.


	5. roses are red, ice queens are blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: luke wants to go home, he's embarrassed over the dream michael knows about, but maggie refuses to allow him to leave.
> 
> now: michael takes no shit and calum is a determined little puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends, i remembered to update early omg go me (:
> 
> okay so i think i have decided that i like updating at least once a week? i think that would be a good routine for me.  
> but note, i plan to update more than one chapter each week as soon as university ends for christmas break.  
> so next week, hopefully i will be uploading on wednesday again. then when break comes, probably wednesdays and saturdays (: ...i'm clearly trying to pretend to be an organised person.
> 
> anyway, thank you and enjoy this cruddy chapter.

**_14._ **   


Calum hasn’t seen any of his friends all day. Well, except for Ashton of course, he is his roommate after all. But there’s been no sight of a red haired joker, he hasn’t even seen Zayn since last night, nor little Luke that he’s somehow accepted into their group without realising. Ashton had said something about Michael being upset and some weird stuff happening with Luke that he hadn’t expanded on considering how Calum was wrapped up in his duvet and already half-asleep. Then the curly haired boy had rushed out late for training so he couldn’t fill him in then either. So now the dark haired lad was stumbling about the living areas in search of _anyone_. Hell, he’d even take Louis’ company. Actually, scratch that. He’d rather connect himself to the mains without Bander Skill concentration, essentially electrocuting himself, than spend time with _that_ asshole.

After a ten minute wander, he finds himself outside Maggie’s dorm. The door is closed but there’s muted sounds coming from behind it that suggests that she is in there, and conversing with someone. It’s the name he catches that causes him to come to a halt, and begin listening in.

“I won’t tell you again, Michael.” Calum hears her say, causing his thick eyebrows to pull together in confusion. The expression of her words were fairly strict, a contrast to her usual upbeat and happy go larry manner.

“It’s not his fault he’s different from us.” Calum recognises his friend’s voice.

“Yes but difference can be a threat.”

“Says the woman who is trying to convince the government otherwise about us.” Comes Michael’s snarky reply. “Such a hypocrite.”

“What did you just say?” The anger was practically venomous in her tone.

“I said you’re a hypocrite. You don’t want people to think we’re dangerous due to our _differences_ , and yet as soon as someone comes along with a _difference_ , you refer to them as a potential threat. Look up the definition of hypocrite because you’re a living embodiment of such. Contradicting yourself and your argument about the original Eighteen for the sake of yourself, your fears, and most probably your ego that is likely wounded by the fact that someone has a greater number of chromosomes than you. But trust me Maggie, Luke can do no harm, I’ve seen every part of him within less than a month through using my Skill, he isn’t capable of such.” The words are muffled behind the wood but Calum’s got a clear idea of what is being said and what is happening: his leader and his friend are fighting.

“The colour red distorts your vision.” Her words are cryptic and for a minute, Calum thinks he must have misheard her.

“Just like the colour blue has turned you cold.” And with that, Michael has pulled back the door, startling Calum. The red haired boy freezes for a moment on seeing his friend unexpectedly standing there, before quickly slamming the door shut, grabbing for Calum’s arm and dragging him as hastily as he can away from Maggie’s room.

“Michael. Michael!” The younger boy whisper-shouted, trying to tug back his arm.

When they’re secure in the library that is barely ever occupied, Michael releases him and asks. “What did you hear?” He sounds irritated, like he’s mad at Calum and it causes the younger boy to wince.

“J-just the hypocrite bit.” He stutters. Michael groans, pulling his friend again, quite harshly, towards one of the desks near the back.

“Don’t tell Ashton. And certainly don’t tell Luke.” The look the older male gives him is enough of a warning to scare him into just nodding in agreement.

“What is happening?” Calum questions as they sit down, biting at his lower lip. There’s a silence between them for a moment as Michael seems to consider his words. As though he’s being rather careful about what he will inform the darker haired boy.

“Maggie thinks Luke is a risk to us.” It’s said through a sigh. “Not like, would make us public knowledge again. But like _actual_ danger, as though he has the potential to harm us all literally. Use his power against us to destroy us or some shit. Personally, I think she’s being a jealous bitch. Acting like a toddler who’s not getting their way considering how even Archie told her she should stop experimenting on Luke. I mean, she had him locked up in the infirmary for over a month as it was. The boy’s gonna snap, either crumbling into pieces and becoming worthless to the group or retaliate by becoming the threat she’s afraid of. Honestly, I’d prefer neither happened.”

“I never thought Maggie would act this way.” Calum is genuinely startled and shocked by his misjudgement of their leader.

“It’s because she’s scared. The fear of the unknown does that to a person. We classify difference as something to be avoided, that we should all conform to some sort of confined image we’re presented by society for ease. But we’re fucking nowhere close to society’s ideas of the normal human being. Fuck, we’re probably not even human, Cal.” Calum stares at his friend, a little surprised by his wise words. Having not expected it from his usually sarcastic pal who participates in daily moaning sessions about meaningless things. “But just because she’s scared doesn’t give her the right to discriminate against him. Even if it’s jealousy. No one deserves to be treated unfairly for being different.” The dark haired boy is so moved by Michael’s ranting that he is close to clapping, but he feels that would come across as sarcastic and so he refrains.

“He just wants to go home.” Adds his red haired friend.

Calum knows the feeling. He looks down at the table, gnawing away at his lip.

“Shit, sorry Cal, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay.” The younger male whispers. Yet it doesn’t feel that way. It feels far from it. He feels far from home. Not just miles away, but literally. Never able to return. “If Luke has a family that wants him to come back and he wants to return to them, then that’s what is going to happen.” Calum’s voice remains a whisper, but he’s determined. Just because he can’t have the happy ending with his parents, he’s sure as hell going to make sure someone else does.

 

_**5.** _

Ashton returns to an empty room, which is to be expected considering how his roommate can barely sit still for five minutes with all that built up energy fizzling inside of him. What he doesn’t anticipate is to find a note hidden beneath his set of candles. There are only two people who know of Ashton’s routine, and somewhat obsessive behaviour of entering his dorm after training and reorganising his candles on the window ledge. Reversing the size order before lighting them. If Calum is here, he’ll always comment on it, or attempt to mess up the arrangement, sometimes even blowing out the flame just to watch his curly haired friend pout. He can never get mad at the dark haired boy, which is surprising considering how he once snapped at a cute old lady in a grocery store over waffles.

Organising is another of his calming techniques; one his mother taught him to use whenever he’s feeling wound up and close to exploding. Right now, he’s grinding his teeth with frustration because in all honesty, training could have gone a little better. He’d been too focused on last night’s events. Fixated on his confusion of what happened with Luke and what Michael was holding back from him. His irritation had only increased when Louis had given both constructive and general dickish criticism. And so, he needed to employ this relaxation method, as strange as it may be.  

Regardless, since there are only two who know of this behaviour, he is able to quickly identify that it is either Calum or Michael who left the small sheet of paper hidden. It’s easy to recognise that from the messy black scrawl that the simple instruction is from Michael. Calum’s handwriting is much more cursive, reserved and small in size too. A contrast to his wild, electrifying personality, in Ashton’s opinion.

They’ve used this form of communication before. They’d only known each other for five months when the government felt at greater threat by their Skills and the trio wanted to make sure they remained safe. Planned it as a way to notify one another of their location should they have to suddenly rush out should the government have decided The Blue Banders was to become a terminated case.

**Our usual place. Make sure you’re not seen x**

The twenty year old nods his head despite no one being in the room. Their usual meeting place is down in the basement, behind the generator. It’s dark and dingy down there. The smell of mould is enough to give him a headache. And there’s an ice cold draft that leaves a chill beneath their bones unless Ashton uses his Bander Skill to radiate heat. On a normal day when they just need time alone together, they’ll huddle for warmth and chat away about nonsense, still getting to know one another considering how even fourteen months doesn’t seem like long enough to know every part of each other. Well, Michael excluded because he can learn of an individual in under a day thanks to his abilities. But even the red haired boy enjoys the company, the normality of getting to know someone and be close to others.

Today, however, as the elder male approaches his two friends, he can tell from their facial expressions alone that he’s not down here for any cuddle-convo session. No, he can see the worry in Calum’s chocolate coloured eyes, golden specks shooting out from his pupils like lightning flashes and showing his alertness and shock. It informs Ashton that things are worse than he imagined. He doesn’t realise he’s been holding his breath until he hears Michael’s voice in his head.

_**Relax.** _

He exhales reluctantly.

“We’re going to get Luke home.” Michael announces.

“But Mag-”

Calum shakes his head and echoes Michael’s words, this time more firmly, which is very unlike the younger male. “No, we’re going to get Luke home, Ash. I don’t care what she thinks about him being-”

“About how he might risk making us public knowledge.” Michael interjects quickly, stopping Calum from revealing the true reason behind Maggie’s unwillingness for the blonde to return to his mother. His green eyes are shifting around the room. It’s a sign of a lie and it makes Ashton uncomfortable once again to learn that his friend is holding something back from him. But Michael knows that discovering how their leader has the potential to imprison and inflict a ridiculous level of control over them would only affect the older male’s anger issues, risking him becoming frustrated by his lack of free will and lose control over his Bander Skill.

“Right.” Ashton doesn’t make comment on the blatant deception occurring. Everyone in the room knows that Ashton knows they’re lying. It’s making all three of them fidgety but Calum quietly and politely reminds them that they have a task on hand here, causing Ashton to question “And how do you plan on going about it?”

Michael takes a deep breath. “Well…”


	6. connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: calum hears maggie and michael fighting. learns that maggie won't let luke go home. neither michael nor calum like this idea so they, alongside ashton, plan to help the blonde return to his mum. aw.
> 
> now: they go to tell luke about said plan but things go pear shaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I’m back from my trip, and returned to find that Ashton is rude and disrespectful because he wore a Chicago Bulls jersey with his name and the number 5 on. Which is obviously the number I chose for him. Someone tell him to rein it in, please.
> 
> In other news, on a full on three hour train journey I decided to scrap the chapter I was going to have as chapter 6 and when delirious with tiredness thought up this instead. But with not having internet access and a temperamental phone, I never wrote it down properly so this hasn’t been edited or proofread because I wanted to have it up as promised since it was already late ): So I apologise for any mistakes. 
> 
> Important: As usual, for telepathic conversations Luke is the italics, Michael is bold-italic, but introducing bold-underline for Ashton and italic-underline for Calum.
> 
> Enjoy!

_8._

They’re stood outside Luke’s dorm, each have had a go at knocking on the door and receiving no response. Michael can hear his friends’ suggestions playing in their minds from where they stand behind him. The red haired boy chooses to ignore them, and with a sigh opts to use force. Not physically, but mentally. It’s against the rules, of course, to use his power in this way and only accepted if he does it accidentally. But right now, he doesn’t care; plus he’s already gone against Maggie’s requests lately in terms of Luke, such as when they were banned from seeing one another and they did so anyway. And so, he projects the thoughts of the trio’s plan into the blonde’s mind where he hides behind the door. His intention is to exclude how Maggie perceives Luke to be harmful to the Banders, but like everything else when it comes to anything ‘Michael and Luke’, things do not go as he desired. Because through his lack of control, he had caught onto Calum’s focus on why they had to form such a plan, and ended up informing Luke how Maggie definitely did not trust him.

Thus, Luke’s door was quickly thrown wide open. “What do you mean she thinks I’m a threat?!” And gosh does he look mad, but mainly sad, shocked and confused, and it messes with Michael’s head because it’s both hot and adorable. “Me? A threat? How could I even hur-” Luke isn’t able to finish because Michael has placed a hand over the younger male’s mouth, stopping the words before they’re aired. Blue eyes have gone wide, having not anticipated the contact, eyelashes fluttering rapidly against tops of cheeks that are gradually becoming rosy red.

**_Ashton can’t know._ **

Michael’s green pleading eyes are staring into Luke’s large pools of blue, hoping to convey his seriousness on the matter. He presents an image into Luke’s mind of what he pictures would be Ashton’s angered response should he discover their potential lack of free will. The blonde blinks his eyes as Michael’s thought plays in his own before giving a brief nod. Michael’s actually surprised that the younger boy hasn’t protested about how the red head is obstructing him from talking, or rather ranting about what is happening. It only becomes apparent to the nineteen year old that this is because internally Luke is freaking out about everything. The situation regarding Maggie, Ashton’s potential reaction but mainly whether Michael can sense or remember how in one of his dreams, Michael had muffled his moans with his hands. The red haired boy’s own cheeks heat up as he removes his hand, neither saying anything but both knowing that the other knew what just happened.

“This is serious.” Calum says behind them, reminding them that they’re here for a reason. “Please, can we just talk to you?”

Luke takes two small steps backwards, a sign that he is allowing the boys to enter his dorm. They do so, piling in hurriedly, Calum continuing to look determined as he follows in behind the red haired male.

Luke’s bed is where Calum’s is situated and out of instinct, Michael heads for it and sits down. When the blonde notices, he pauses, looking conflicted and the nineteen year old catches worried broken sentences of:

_Michael… my bed… dreams…_

But it is enough to identify that Luke is still thinking about what he deems to be embarrassing dreams. Can see the memory playing of that same dream from earlier; the one of Michael on top of the blonde, pressing one palm to his mouth and the other against his crotch. Come to think of it, the red haired boy remembers seeing it for the first time when on patrol for the whole operation 'Stop Water Baby From Losing His Shit'. Now, though, he considers how that was probably Maggie’s way of checking to see if Luke actually was going to cause harm to the other Banders, and not a means of looking out for the boy.

Luke seems to hesitate before he takes a seat at the edge of his own bed, far away as possible from the other male vacating it. Ashton has taken up the spare one, sprawled out on it as though it were his, while Calum is perched on the desk chair. The only other option would have been to sit on the floor.

There’s an awkward silence that lasts about ten beats until Ashton breaks it, clearing his throat. Michael had slightly forgotten that he and Calum were in the room, too, having been focused on his own thoughts as well as those swimming through the younger boy’s mind. “So,” Michael says, bringing his hands together.

“Your plan is going to fail.” Luke is frowning, looking down at his feet.

“Why?” Calum questions, leaning an elbow on the surface of the wooden desk, making himself more comfortable.

“Because who’s to say Zayn will agree?”

“He is one of my best friends.” The dark haired boy replies simply.

“Yes, but he is not mine.” _And friends aren’t always willing to fulfil your requests,_ comes the thought that only Michael has access to. “Plus, why would he even go against Maggie’s word?”

“He doesn’t know of it.” Ashton interjects, and it is ironic really considering how the curly haired male himself doesn’t know entirely either. “We wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Michael.” Luke doesn’t even look over in the red haired male’s direction, apparently finding interest in his shoes still.

“Who said that?” Michael suddenly questions, now that catches the trio's attention, all three sets of eyes fixing on him. He hadn’t been able to recognise the source of the thought that had intruded his mind. It certainly wasn’t his own, he doesn’t think it would be Luke’s either, nor Calum’s considering his desire to get the blonde home. He looks to Ashton. “Did you just say you’re going to tell Maggie?” The accusation in his tone is enough to demonstrate his anger.

“What? _No!_ ” Ashton rushes out, defensive.

There are voices in his head, like someone debating notifying their leader of the interaction occurring within the blonde’s room right now. **_Jack._** Finally a name sounds through his thoughts as Jack pictures the scene of he and Maggie sitting in her office discussing the incident. Michael relays the information, projecting his words into the boys’ thoughts.

**_It’s Jack… he’s listening in._ **

“Shit.” Ashton groans, running a hand down his face.

“What about… No, it doesn’t matter.” Calum shakes his head.

“What about what?” Michael inquires.

“A connection conversation.” He mutters. The red haired boy hears Ashton take a sharp intake of breath.

“It’s too dangerous.” The elder of the four comments.

Michael looks back to Luke. “I’ve never-” He gestures his hand in the direction of the blonde. “I’ve never done it with three people at once.”

“There’s nothing else we can do for all four of us to have input, though.” Calum reminds them, voice purposely low but it is useless, Jack would be able to hear regardless. Michael gives a sigh. It’s true, with Jack’s Bander Skill, which Maggie named ‘Phonic Amplification’, Jack has the ability to hear sound of many frequencies and over long distances. Can take the quietest of noises and manipulate waves so that the volume increases, even to a deafening rate, meaning he can harm others this way. The beauty of Michael’s Skill, however, is that a thought is never an aired sound; meaning Jack is never exposed to it and therefore can never hear nor amplify it.

“I’ll do it.”

“No, Michael.” The worry in Ashton’s tone clouds the authority he is trying to demonstrate. And sure, the curly haired male is older than him and at times acts more mature, but it is Michael who has the most respect and power within the Banders. He simply shakes his head no and Ashton’s hazel eyes looks so sad, a hint of fear. The memory is probably playing through his head of last time when, like now, Michael’s control had not been so sufficient and he had connected their three minds together to be able to hear one another as though they were talking normally. It had been rather exhausting; a massive strain to be able to project Ashton’s thoughts at a rate that meant Calum could hear them too, and then do the reverse for whenever Calum wanted to speak to them both. The effort had completely wiped him out for a good twenty odd hours afterwards. Maggie had been so pissed.

“What are you guys talking about?” Luke whispers.

Oh yeah, the blonde had no clue what connection conversation meant. Michael forgot sometimes how Luke hadn’t been here from the start. “I’ll show you, it’s easier.” The nineteen year old instantly closes his eyes, expecting the other three to follow when he asks. He’s concentrating on Calum’s thoughts first, they’re always easier to get a hold on, with them being less manic and reduced in number compared to Ashton and Luke. He tries for Ashton next, quickly connecting his own mind to his before joining it to Calum’s too. Michael gives them time to try out whether it has worked, the pair both telling Michael to be careful. Then they fall silent, attempting to make their thoughts less frequent or inexistent as possible so Michael can focus on connecting Luke to their minds.

It’s such an effort. He knew Luke’s mind was one full of constant thoughts and worry but he never anticipated the effect it would have on him to try to join it to all three of them.

The nineteen year old scrunches up his eyes in pain with a terrible sensation like his brain is about to explode, as though it no longer fits in the confines of his skull. The pressure is unbearable and he can feel the trickle of blood running from his nose. He wipes it with the back of his sleeve, staining the blue material red. Ashton thinks about telling him to stop but Michael pushes on. He’s got a grip on Luke’s mind, he can hear the thoughts himself, all he needs to do now is join it up to the other two males.

**_I have a request._ **

That stops Luke’s mind from shooting out numerous frantic thoughts.

**_Sing Don’t Worry Be Happy again, please._ **

There’s a couple of confused internal comments that follow, including from Calum and Ashton who can only hear Michael's words, before the song begins playing throughout Luke and Michael’s mind. Instantly, the pain subsides a little and he lets out shaky breath, grateful in all honesty for the reduction in pressure. It gives him time to work to connect Luke to Calum and then Luke to Ashton.

The tune continues, a few thoughts buried beneath it and ignored while Michael attempts to readjust to the power he is exerting. When he feels secure enough and the pain has died down to a simple pulsating behind his eyes, like a migraine at its earliest stages, that moment when it is threatening to form, only then Michael begins their conversation.

**_So do we all have a good idea what the plan is?_ **

_There’s nothing good about this plan at all._

** You’re wrong. **

That sparks off a load of thoughts in Luke’s mind, because oops, they never warned him that this is what a connection conversation entailed; that he would experience multiple voices in his head at once. It seems to cause an ache in the boy’s head, with words such as _pressure_ and _compressed_ rushing by.

 _You will get used to it._ Calum aims his thought to the blonde.

And surely enough, as they begin to guide the discussion so that they’re only focusing on the plan, Luke’s mind seems to forget about the force of having three people in his mind. Michael, however, isn’t so lucky. The pain and pressure is still there as he works to control all four of their minds, ensuring everyone remains connected to each other as well as keep a hold on his own thoughts and contribute to the conversation.

 **So basically, after that, Zayn will come to your room and literally just teleport you the fuck out of here.** Ashton concludes.

 _And you really expect for everything else prior to that to work?_ Luke sounds fed up and dejected.

 _We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t._ Calum adds. _What is the harm in trying, anyway?_

 _Uh, possibly being tied to a bed for another month?_ And gosh does Luke sound pissed.

**_Enough, please._ **

Michael’s exhausted, they can all sense it, all hear the voice in his head that keeps echoing phrases about his tiredness. Yet, the red haired boy is trying to continue to keep them connected so they can finish their discussion, free from eavesdroppers.

** I think we’re done here, for now. You’ve had enough. **

**_I can go on. I’m fine._** But he lets out a loud yawn, body feeling all the more heavy and he’s physically and mentally drained.

** No, disconnect us right now, Eight, that is an order. **

Sometimes having Ashton as one of his mission partners was annoying, he never let him get away with things, even if they were benefiting the rest of the group, and especially if it was causing harm to himself.

With a sigh, Michael asks Luke to begin thinking up the song again. He’s managed to disconnect Ashton from all three minds, quickly moving onto Calum but he’s struggling to detach Luke from his own mind. Yet, he doesn’t have time to keep trying because before he knows it, all colour seems to fade and everything has gone black.

 

_19._

“Michael! Michael!” Calum screams, panicked. Ashton has already crossed the room at such a speed that usually it would have made Luke freak out though he is far too busy grabbing for the red haired boy who has passed out on his bed.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” He doesn’t even realise how he keeps repeating the phrase, he’s in a complete state of shock. One moment, Michael has been sat up right and suddenly he had fallen to the side, body going limp and lifeless as though he had dropped dead.

“Prop up his head.” Ashton orders, looking only to Calum, noting that Luke is useless in this situation. The dark haired boy obeys the request in under a second. “Michael.” The older boy cups his large hands around the pale face of the blacked out male.

Luke feels himself sway, leaning up against the wall behind him as a sudden wave of drowsiness overcomes him. Then there are pictures that flood passed his vision, flicking by at such a speed that it makes him dizzy and tired.

“Luke?” He hears his name but it’s too far away. Like the real world and this miniature movie playing in his mind are oceans apart.

He only knows that he himself has landed on his side when his shoulder begins to ache, his arm twisted back behind him. His name is called again, much more forcefully but not managing to break through the images.

Images that Luke recognise of himself and Michael. Some of Ashton and Calum. A few of Maggie and Louis. Faces he doesn’t recognise. A woman he remembers from a memory Michael showed him of his mother one time.

And then it clicks and he realises what is happening.

Just as he had done so himself, Michael has trapped Luke in his mind, the dream world pulling him under himself.

The blonde starts to panic. To Ashton and Calum he can only imagine that it looks like he’s hyperventilating in his sleep.

He needs to disconnect from Michael’s thoughts. Like, _now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i still haven't revealed the plan to you. i promise there's a reason.


	7. price of power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: to tell luke the plan, they use michael's ability of 'connection conversation' and since he isn't well trained in it, he fails to disconnect from the blonde.
> 
> now: we meet a new cute blondie and experience the consequences of being connected. woops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to apologise for not updating on Wednesday. I had to give a presentation on an investigation I'm doing which caused me to freak the hell out and took up all my valuable writing time ): Please don't hate me. 
> 
> But thank you if you're still here and you still care xx

**_8._ **

The last 24 hours have been draining. And never did he think that he would find himself wanting to strangle Luke. (Okay, so maybe that one time he thought about it in a sexual sense, yes, but only if the blonde would have granted him permission). That being said, he is sure he has envisioned himself wrapping short, thick fingers around the boy’s giraffe-like neck and squeezing at least six times now.

He’s not mad with the boy. No, it’s just that Luke’s mind never stops. _Never._ It’s constantly running on some worried thought, which is expected considering the circumstances he has found himself in but… It would be nice, just for an hour at least for him to give it a rest. Especially since the blonde’s thoughts are locked on to Michael’s. The pair’s minds have been anchored to one another’s since the connection conversation. And only intensified on waking up after he passed out from the pressure of the ongoing intrusion.

Turns out constantly experiencing two minds where there is only space for one can leave a person exhausted. Which is why Michael is slumped against Ashton’s side, head resting on the older male’s shoulder, his eyes closed and welcoming the warmth his friend radiates. Luke, on the other hand, is sat alone on a table on the opposite side of the room and looking like he hasn’t slept in a year. His blonde head tucked into the crook of his elbow, using the hard surface like a pillow. They thought space might help break the connection but apparently not. They had discovered such last night on trying to sleep, each in their separate dorms, on completely different sides of the facility. Since Luke had been ignoring his telepathic requests for him to ‘shut up and sleep’, Michael had got up from his bed, huffing and puffing, and padded barefoot through all the corridors, down two flights of stairs just to reach the eighteen year old’s room. Jack was stood outside, looking wary and conflicted; as though he was about to say something but thought better of it on seeing how grumpy the red haired boy was.

And so, that is how Michael found himself sharing a bed with Luke, stroking his thumb gently across the back of the younger boy’s hand to soothe him to sleep. Apparently all Luke had wanted was something similar to the comfort his mother used to give him when he was upset but obviously couldn’t receive since he was technically not free to leave. So there was Michael, being the substitute just for the sake of getting at least four hours kip in. And maybe he also wanted to comfort the boy since he hated hearing and seeing the blonde so sad and wanted to help somehow.

The struggle came on waking up around quarter to six to learn they had, yet again, shared the same dream. Unsure of whose mind conjured up the whole thing. Michael is pretty sure it was both of them, because he’d have to be a completely ignorant idiot to pretend that there wasn’t something happening between him and Luke. The two of them offering little moments and fantasies to add to their subconscious interactions. That didn’t stop the awkwardness of sharing panicked thoughts about being ‘turned on in bed with another boy’ or in Michael’s case ‘hard as fuck and wanting to touch’ – that included himself _and_ Luke. A thought that had, of course, been heard by the younger male and shocked a squeak out of him.

Michael had left a few minutes later, throwing an apologetic and sheepish glance over his shoulder. Leaving the rosy cheeked boy wrapped up in the duvet they had been sharing only seconds earlier. To anyone, this would look like this was some sort of ‘morning after’ situation. As though they had been physically tangled up in sheets rather than snuggled beneath them. Then again, mentally they had been tangled. So, did this count as a sexual encounter?

Michael groaned into the fabric of Ashton’s shirt.

“Hey, hey, hey! Why so glum, plum?” The red haired male heard, as a chair scraped back on his left hand side. Even without turning he knew who that voice belonged to. It was the same phrase they used every time Michael looked miserable. Had begun after he dyed his hair some ridiculously purpley-brown shade. Looking to the blonde, blue eyes burning into him, the nineteen year old sighed, reminded of Luke by the girl’s features. They both had similar cute button noses and practically the same face shape.

“Oh you know, just some boy running through my mind.” He joked, sarcastic, but the blonde wouldn’t understand. Calum, however, was laughing from the seat across from him. Ashton had snorted, little sprays of water flying from his mouth from where he had been taking a drink but had been interrupted by his friend’s humour. Michael didn’t need to look over to where Luke was sat to know he had found it amusing, too and snickering into his own arm.

“I think I’ve missed the punchline.”

“Sorry, Taylor.” Michael smiled, rocking from Ashton’s side to lean against her instead. Automatically, she wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed.

“You weren’t in training today.” She frowned, changing the subject and looking over Michael’s face for any indication of why that was. “Maggie was pissed.”

“Yeah, well Michael’s pissed, too.” Michael replied.

_Oh so he’s also one of those people who talk in third person sometimes._

**_Luke, what are you doing?_** But Michael didn’t need an answer to know the eighteen year old was making a mental checklist of all the things he found adorable that Michael did. Luke didn’t reply, bursting out into an internal monologue about how he was so stupid before trying to drown out his self-hatred through song. Choosing _Don’t Worry Be Happy_ , which was typical of the blonde, in Michael's opinion. 

Taylor was speaking to him and he was rudely ignoring her. **_Damn this locked connection to hell._**

_I’m trying to concentrate here, Michael. Stop it._

**_You started it._ **

_You’re the one who combined our minds. So really, you started it._

**_Technicalities._ **

_Listen to your friend!_

**_Eat your bloody pasta and change the track, Jesus._ **

“Michael!” Taylor was laughing, waving her hand in front of his eyes. “You zoned out on me.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“I was saying how Maggie was unimpressed that you didn’t turn up. _I_ was, too. It’s been so long since ‘Maylor’ had a session together.” The blonde female was pouting.

_That sounded really naughty._

Michael rolled his eyes, earning himself a hurt expression from Taylor. “Oh no, sorry, sorry!” He rushed out. “That wasn’t at you.”

“I was the only one talkin- _Oh._ Mind things.” She shrugged her frail little shoulders.

“Yes, mind things.” He confirmed, gesturing his hand towards his head. Then through a whisper he begun “Luke and I are…”

“Together? Finally!” She clapped her little hands excitedly. “I have been praying for this since the first day I saw you two.” Michael sat up then, leaning away to take in the girl’s expressions. Was she being serious?

“No!” Michael blinked at her. Her face fell. “We have a connection problem.”

“I know the feeling. Sometimes relationships don’t work until you talk it ou-”

“No, Taylor.” The red haired boy exhaled loudly. “He and I are literally stuck in each other’s minds.”

“That is so cute.”

Now he _was_ rolling his eyes at her.

Ashton interjected, thankfully. Explaining the situation to her. Well, _a version_ of such. Informing her that they were testing to see how far Michael’s connection conversation capabilities could reach and how it had ended up with the pair being unable to break the link. “Oh Mikey.” She placed her hand to his cheek in comfort.

_She is far too touchy to be just a friend._

**_Best friend._** Michael corrected Luke’s words. Then he was flooded by embarrassed and upset thoughts. Luke was really hating on himself for coming across as lame, apparently. Michael just found it really cute. **_Relax, Luke._** He thought up, trying to warp the voice in his mind to sound soothing. The nineteen year old could easily manipulate the younger boy to a genuine state of calmness through influencing and altering his thoughts, but the last time he had been connected to someone’s mind and instructed such, he’d ended up affecting himself as well and it was just disastrous. You try disconnecting from a near comatose Calum Hood who was halfway through near-dreaming about getting a dog for Christmas while you were wrapped up in the dream yourself. It was fucking hard. It was why he hadn’t used it himself already, even if it would have been helpful last night to stop Luke’s constantly active brain.

“So that’s why you never came to training today?” Taylor asked and Michael considered it, whether he should tell her the truth but Luke chose for him.

_We’re not ready, Michael. You said so last night. We can’t tell her just yet._

And he was right. Michael _had_ decided that it wasn’t a good idea for them to try to go through with the plan when neither he nor Luke could concentrate on anything other than each other for anything other than 30 seconds. The plan would be doomed from the onset. So they made the decision to wait it out. Somehow disconnect and only then would they be able to run Operation Get Luke Home.

“Yes.” He answered after what would seem to the petite girl as far too long. She was looking at him through narrowed eyes. Michael wrung his hands under the table, squeezing fingers tightly in between his palm. And then suddenly, he repositioned himself, dropping his shoulders as though he was totally chill with the world. Ignoring her stare, the red haired boy continued. “I literally can’t get anything I was _planning_ to achieve done because of it. He never shuts up.” Well, that part wasn’t a lie.

 _Excuse me! I can hear you, you know?_ The hurt was evident even in his mind-voice.

“It’s only been like 20 something hours and I couldn’t even dress myself this morning without someone else’s assistance because I was distracted by his thoughts.”

Taylor laughed, much to Michael’s dismay. He was trying to complain here! He wanted sympathy! Not laughter.

“You haven’t told Maggie, have you?” She said in an amused tone.

“Not at all.”

“She’d be so mad you tried something like this.”

“That’s why you can’t speak a word of it to anyone.” Now it was his turn to wrap _his_ arm around _her_ waist. “And because you love me, you will comply.”

Taylor gave an exaggerated sigh. “What day is it?” It wasn’t the question Ashton, Calum nor the overhearing Luke had expected.

Michael had.

“Tuesday?” Ashton answered, eyebrows furrowed in blatant confusion.

“Damn.” She sighed out the word but began smirking.

“It’s Tuesday.” Michael was beaming at her. This was another of their _'things'._

“I guess I love you too then. Only because it’s a Tuesday. Any other day though…” Taylor pulled a face as though she was disgusted. “I wouldn’t.” Then she was laughing; it a tinkling sound, like icicles dropping against a frozen surface.

Michael heard the sounds of a chair legs scratching against the tiled floor and looked up to it. Finding Luke charging off and out of the room.

 _You’re so stupid, Luke._ The blonde’s self-directed words echoed through the red haired male’s mind.

_So stupid. Here you are having not seen your mum in ages, unable to bathe without losing sight of your limbs and being considered number one threat to a whole bunch of people, but you’re main concern right now is some girl because she has a sweet relationship with the guy you keep having naughty dreams about? Stupid, stupid Luke. So dumb._

Michael cannot hear anything else but the Luke’s rant. It’s caused him to lose sense of his surroundings.

_I wish I could disappear. Dissipate into nothingness. I wish I could vanish into thin air. Like water evaporating, molecules escaping into vapour._

**_You poetic little shit._** Michael tried to joke, hoping his thoughts would stop the boy’s.

And it did.

Just not the way he had intended.

_Shit! Oh my Lo-_

He’d startled the younger male, who at the time was trying to trek down some steps when the voice had suddenly popped into his mind. Messing up his concentration and scaring him. To the point that he had lost his footing and began tumbling. Long legs folding in on themselves, ending up tucked beneath himself somehow, and he was falling down.

This was worse than Michael had ever imagined. Having this sort of connection with someone obviously lead to hearing their cognitions, but sometimes it meant he could quite literally see what they were seeing as it was happening, but more so, experience their sensations as they were occurring. And all Luke could sense right now was pain. Various parts of his body slamming into sharp edges as he rolled downwards. The red haired boy felt the pain as though it were his own, screaming out and frightening half the room in which he was sat.

An agonising ache burned in his skull and the feeling like water trickling down from his forehead and across his temple. There was a hurt behind his eyes, which felt heavy and threatening to close.

Michael is so trapped in Luke’s mind, drowning in the overwhelming sensations he is feeling, that the only way he manages to come back to his own senses, back to the room where all eyes are looking at him, are through his friends’ Skills. Ashton’s palm is on his forearm, radiating a gradually increasing heat while Calum sends sparks into the other. It works, causing Michael to feel his own pain for the first time in the last few minutes and return to reality. Everyone is staring, seeking an understanding for whatever is happening and scared because the boy who technically is one of the top five Banders people look to is crying out for no reason.

 _Help._ Michael hears before there’s a static that fogs his mind. The noise he usually receives when he’s finally disconnected from Calum or Ashton. The nineteen year old got his wish to no longer be connected to the boy’s frantic, always moving mind. Yet at a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bye luke  
> i'm kidding omg sorry


	8. time heals all wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: michael and luke had been driving each other nuts by being mentally linked. they finally disconnect when michael startles luke causing him to tumble down some stairs.  
> now: i wanted to remind people that the top five have secrets while potentially not helping luke at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i actually updated on a wednesday wah hoo go me  
> but yes, i'm sorry this is cruddy but i wanted something up before christmas in case i don't have a chance with all the crazy that happens  
> also i want to wish you all a happy christmas should you celebrate and even not, i hope you have a wonderful day regardless <3

_**8.** _

Shaking, Michael stands. Taylor’s hands reach for him, steadying him where he wobbles on trembling legs. He’d gone from feeling like his head had been cracked open one moment, to this sudden empty sensation. The contrast is too much to handle.

People’s mouths are moving but he doesn’t understand them. All he knows is that Luke is hurt. And alone. That he needs his help.

The red haired boy steps forward, lucky that Ashton has good reflexes, his strong arm wrapping around Michael’s waist and pulling him towards his torso, stopping him from crumbling to the floor.

Everyone is staring at him.

He thinks through the mix of his and Luke’s thoughts that were barely still in his short term memory, trying to recall which stairs the boy could be using. He can picture them easily: the first set on the way to the blonde’s dorm. Because of course he was trying to go back to somewhere he could find the most comfort and like home in a place he felt unwelcome. Where he _was_ unwelcome.

Michael weakly voices the location, not explaining what was happening and already a few bodies are moving instantly in that direction. Some linger back to learn more information. “Luke’s hurt.” He explains and that is enough to get them following, too. All except Ashton and Taylor have vanished to assist the youngest of their Blue Banders group. No, instead, the pair who have remained are focusing their concentration and concern on the nineteen year old that looks about ready to pass out. “This is all my fault.” Michael goes to leave, to get to Luke, pushing down on the arm tied around his middle but then all of a sudden it feels as though everything is going in slow motion, making it all an effort and more so tiring to continue for the already exhausted male. “Taylor!” But it takes him at least ten seconds to whine out the name fully. He knew it; knew she’d do it. He looks up to her and it takes what feels like forever to achieve, watching her blink at such a slow rate. The blonde female is using her Skill on him. To Ashton and everyone else, time is going as it should. For Michael, however, everything is happening an entire eight beats later and feels as though it is taking a century to occur. It’s nauseating, the feeling of it all, like cotton wool in your brain.

The bright haired boy knows she wouldn’t use it if she didn’t think there was a reason. Yet he thinks there was no need in this. Doesn’t understand why she is stopping him from going to help Luke. He’s trying to project the feeling back onto her. Though she was right, it has been far too long since they trained together, meaning their connection was limited. And since she got in his head first, she had the advantage here. There was no way out of this other than to trust that Ashton wouldn’t let anything happen to him and that Calum, who had headed off at the front of the crowd, would do the same for Luke.

 

_**14.**_  

The dark haired boy is running, fast as a flash of lightning. He’s the first on the scene, inhaling sharply when, even from the top of the stairs, he sees pools of red surrounding the blonde who lays unconscious at the bottom. Luke’s body looks crumpled in on itself, skin gone transparent from where the colour has drained from him and instead looks to be seeping onto the floor. It’s the quickest he has ever descended steps in his entire life, taking two at a time in order to reach the boy as fast as possible.

Luke is completely still. And in his panic, Calum isn’t sure if the youngest boy is breathing; unsure if he is imagining not seeing the male’s chest rising and falling. He’s holding his ear close to Luke’s face, feels the faint warmth on his cheek that confirms that he _is_ in fact still breathing.

“Don’t move him!” Someone shouts. It’s Sarah, a Bander medic, and it takes her far too long to join them at the bottom of the stairs that Calum sees Zayn take things into his own hands, using his initiative to use his Bander Skill, as he grabs onto the petite female’s arm and they disappear into thin air. Only to reappear seconds later now crouched down next to Calum and Luke’s frozen frame. Sarah’s eyes are looking up and down the length of the unconscious male, and in under a second, she’s pulled her ombre hair back into a loose ponytail before her hands are working on the blonde. Two thin fingers testing for a pulse. “It’s weak.” She whispers, her stare burning into Calum; their eyes locking for a moment and then it’s gone, instead she has placed all her attention back on Luke. The female is only six years Calum’s senior but usually she gives off immaturity vibes, always giggling and rambling about some romance novel. Right now though? She’s the picture of professionalism, gone into complete practical mode, throwing out instructions to various individuals who flitter off hurriedly to do as told.

Everything is going passed in a blur of colours and a whir of sound and Calum is struggling to keep up with it all. He thinks Ashton would have been better off here, that he should have remained with Michael in the cafeteria. Believes himself as useless in this situation whereas the curly haired older male would have been more hands-on.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he notices how Luke has gone blue around the lips, notifying them all that he is no longer breathing for real this time around. “Shit.” Sarah curses, tanned hands tipping Luke’s blonde head backwards, lifting his chin upwards for some reason unknown to the dark haired male. She’s pressed her ear close to the unconscious boy’s face just as Calum had done earlier. Then with interlocked fingers, she places pressure onto the centre of Luke’s chest. Up and down, up and down. Quickly Sarah’s lips on are Luke’s, blowing twice after she’s ensured she’s pinched his nose. She’s performing CPR, Calum realises now that his brain is catching up with him. Everyone is watching as Luke’s chest deflates as she pulls back and nothing happens. “Fuck, Nineteen, let’s not play this game today.” She repeats her actions, ranting away as though he can hear.

“Sarah.” An authoritative voice cuts through the static buzzing in Calum’s brain. The twenty-four year old looks up from where she is watching Luke’s face for any signs of activity, her hands continuing to skilfully work away. “You need to do it. It’s okay.” A flicker of fear flashes across her face and you could be stood at the top of the stairs and still manage to hear the gulp she gives.

Apprehensively, she nods her head and unclasps her hands, tucking them into her lap and sitting back.

“What? _No_.” Calum snaps out of the haze, looking between Sarah and… Louis, the one who was apparently saying it was completely acceptable for her to just _give up_ on trying to save someone’s _life._ Instantly, Calum is on his knees, about to press his own incapable hands on the unconscious boy’s chest when Zayn pulls him back to his feet. “Get off of me!” The dark haired male is yelling, feeling betrayed by his supposed best friend whose arms are secure around his waist.

“It’s okay.” Louis repeats as Sarah takes a deep breath.

“It’s fucking not!” Calum shouts but Louis hushes him. Calum hates him, like outright _despises_ the stupid fox-faced little fuck. He can feel the little bolts of electricity jolting through him with anger, tingling beneath his skin and shocking Zayn slightly who goes unfazed.

Sarah holds a shaky hand to Luke’s head, right where blood is pouring from it still, and closes her eyes. Calum continues to pinch and punch at Zayn’s arms that just squeeze at him more. The eighteen year old only stops wriggling and fighting when he realises the wound beginning to close, vanishing before his eyes as though it was never there in the first place. Suddenly, Luke gives a gasp, chest moving frantically like he’s been pulled up from water after drowning. And Sarah rocks backwards, she’s clearly dizzy and Louis kneels down beside her to hold her upright, asking her whether she is okay.

Calum cannot believe what he is seeing; neither can those congregated at the top of the stairs where they had followed after Calum on Michael’s declaration of the location. All open mouths and wide eyes. “You can heal people?” Someone, Niall he recognises, asks.

Sarah doesn’t reply, but there’s a guilty looking expression on her face, followed by one of anxiety. It’s obvious to everyone that this was supposed to be kept a secret. “Can we not discuss this now? She needs to help Nineteen.” Louis growls, agitated, but is ever so gentle as he pats at Sarah’s arm comfortingly. There are no more questions, a slight murmur that quickly dies down when Louis gives a glare as though he will snap a bitch.

Zayn has released Calum from his hold, had done so after an intense electric current had passed through the younger boy following his surprise at what the Bander medic had done to Luke.

Sarah is trying to ignore the stares as she gets back to what is important here: the boy lying still very much unconscious on the floor. “We need to get him to the infirmary. This,” She is referring to what she has just done in ‘healing’ the blonde. “Won’t be enough. It’s only temporary.” The twenty odd year old asks Calum and Zayn for assistance from that point on, far too shaky herself from the exertion of a power no one but Louis (and probably Zayn from the looks of it) was aware of. “On my count.” Sarah is saying, nodding her head at the two dark haired males as they gently lift the blonde up onto one of the beds from the infirmary that someone had brought round. Following an unspoken conversation, Zayn reaches his hand out for the ombre haired girl, a firm grip still on the metal bed and they vanish before everyone’s eyes. Calum’s left staring at a blood stained carpet, panting hard like he’s been carrying out hours’ of physical activity.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around.

It’s Louis, blue-grey eyes full of concern and is a complete contrast to what Calum has ever experienced from the boy. But suddenly they narrow. “Sparky, you need to get back to Michael, make sure he gets checked out, too. I’m not dumb, I know you were doing that connection chatter shit again. It’s probably fucked up his head. Now go.” There’s sternness in his tone, a kind of power that Louis can display on being one of the top five and it’s because of that and a little because Calum is really scared of Louis, he nods his head.

 

_**19.** _

His eyelids feel heavy and swollen. Difficult to prise apart. He wants to sleep but there’s this miniscule ache just on the left side of his head, right at the front by his hairline and it’s making him feel slightly queasy, preventing him from falling back into a pleasant slumber.

“Nineteen.” It’s a sly voice, startling him from where he had imagined he was in his bed at home. “Glad to see you’re finally awake. I was sure you were just going to cause multiple issues for us and never live to experience the consequences.”

_Maggie,_ the voice in Luke’s head says and he’s beginning to panic, the beeping of some monitor connected to him getting quicker to demonstrate such.

_Fuck._


	9. former future, previous past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously (i'll do a big recap since it's been awhile): maggie thinks luke is a threat to the banders bc he is different from the rest. so she denies his request to go home so she can keep an eye on him. michael tells her she is wrong but she's like nah mate and we're all like "why maggie?? luke is practically a baby". so ash, cal and michael come up with a plan to get luke home. they have to use michael's skill, which isn't perfected, to share said plan with luke. but then bc luke and michael are dumb-dumbs they couldn't disconnect. this then messed with their heads so they struggled to focus and concentrate on their surroundings. as a result, luke did a humpty dumpty and had a great fall (i don't know why i thought this funny but i'm going to go with it). sarah, the bander medic, had to use her skill of healing on him, which the other banders didn't know about and were like omg secrets!
> 
> now: we learn the reasoning behind the 'sarah secret' (it might make you agree with maggie and sympathise with her aw), i introduce taylor as a narrative voice (both past and present bc she does timey wimey stuff), luke is a melon and causes more problems for michael other than his "constant boner" (you'll see, you'll see).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii guys i really want to apologise for not updating earlier? i was scheduled to do so about five days ago or something but i’ve been really busy. i have really important exams coming up and a lot of stress at home so yeah ):
> 
> but don’t hate me too much for the wait. you do get an answer to something in which some of you were asking about in the comments last week but were too cute and impatient <3 and this update is longer than usual to make up for it as well.
> 
> also this is **really important** in terms of the narrative of this chapter! okay listen up, there is a short time jump to two years ago, in taylor’s perspective (ooh new things) because she is the time skilled lady, then it returns to present day for the last two sections.

_**14.** _

If Calum had said to you yesterday that a whole roomful of people would have elected him to go investigate the reasoning behind why secrets were being held from them, he would have thought you crazy. Should they have suggested Ashton? Well, Calum could understand that. Ashton got on well with Sarah, Ashton was more forceful and determined to get answers, definitely more practical than Calum ever was. But Ashton disappeared after half-carrying Michael to bed, had headed off with Taylor and on looking for the pair, the dark haired boy was met with a crowd of Banders who had various questions and sharp words on the tip of their tongues.

After reaching the infirmary, Sarah was deemed unfit to help Luke, too dizzy from exhibiting her Skill and admitted to one of the beds herself. Michael’s in the next room, bedridden with exhaustion and ordered to not leave until the colour returns to him. Or what little colour that milk bottle white boy sometimes displays, Calum thinks cheekily, trying to find whatever amusement he can in this terribly serious and stressful situation.

So here he was now, standing as the Bander medic lets off what appears to be months, nearly a year’s worth of steam and things she’s been holding back.

“You really think an English major who hasn’t done anything remotely related to science since high school would be assigned a medic for seventeen other people? Where is the logic there?” Sarah is waving her hands about as she speaks. “Seriously?” She looks at Calum as though he’s lost his mind. “What, did you just think my Skill was to be able to bring about some painful ugly looking boils on people’s skin?” Calum recalls a time when, prior to learning Skill control, Sarah had reached out for Ashton and in doing so, caused these horrendous, monstrous looking lumps to form up his arm, spreading across his chest at a startling speed. The curly haired male had been sick for days, skin burning with it, terrible fever, muttering nonsense until suddenly, he was better (except for the odd burn-like patches that would come and go along his body for the next week). Calum thought it was just the effect of the girl’s power wearing off. “No.” The short girl shakes her head firmly, gives a sigh and then more calmly adds “Maggie thinks it’s like, some sort of ability to manipulate the biological structure of individuals. So I can use this Skill in a harmful manner, messing with people’s immune systems and bodies to cause illness. Or I could use it for good, such as healing them.” The ombre hair gives a small shrug of her shoulders. “Like most of our Skills, though, it has consequences.” She gestures to the bed she lays in before adding. “And also for the person I’ve healed, seems to have an effect on their abilities too.” But Calum fails to acknowledge the significance of this, how it could suggest Luke’s already weakened Skill control may be impacted, or even how it answers why Ashton’s control wilted after he was healed. No, Calum rather is too fixed on the task on hand, to receive information that the other Banders are seeking.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Calum asks casually, but he’s gripping at the sides of the bed tightly, knuckles going white with the tension of his hold.

“I was told not to.” Sarah eventually replies, giving another shrug and Calum has to think for a moment to remember what he had asked, having got too wound up in his thoughts. The dark haired boy’s eyebrows furrow together, causing a crease between his eyes to form. Noting his confusion, she adds “Look, Cal, think about it. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about my Skill because the government already didn’t like the idea that these eighteen- No, nineteen,” She corrects herself quickly. “Individuals have popped up out of the blue and can do all these crazy things. We’re a threat. People don’t take threats lightly. Will do anything and everything in their power to not be overthrown by it.” The words have more meaning to Calum than Sarah probably imagines and for a minute, he thinks about the whole Luke-Maggie thing. But the girl is continuing and he needs to listen, this might be the only time she voices this. “If the government found out that the threat has the potential not to be harmed, that in battle when struck could go unaffected, bounce back up when fallen as though nothing happened? They would want to eliminate that as quickly as possible. Our Banders have strength, an advantage in hiding my Skill, because it prevents the government from learning about it and stops them from-” The twenty-four year old stops and then in a whisper finishes “stops them from killing me.”

The realisation hits Calum hard, he’s blinking at the older girl, breathes out a “Fuck.”

“Yeah, _fuck_.” Sarah is frowning, looking down at her hands.

“Now people know and it puts you at greater r-” The boy doesn’t get to finish.

“Puts me at a massive risk of being dragged out of here and never returning if someone accidentally slips up.” The usually peppy girl looks like she’s going to cry. “Maggie was just trying to do the right thing. For me, for all of us. It’s all she ever wants to do. She thinks it’s her responsibility, because it was her who brought us all here, brought us together, made us this big family, but put us in danger by making us public knowledge. Yet, where would we be if she hadn’t? I don’t even want to think about doing this alone. You’d be alone, too.” She reminds Calum, both of their families hadn’t taken their new found abilities to be a blessing. The eighteen year old feels like he’s been slapped in the face at the unexpected mention. “I don’t want to lose any of you. I don’t want to die. Maggie is trying to keep us alive. It’s why she keeps things from us. Why she tries to reduce threats without even alerting us to them. To reduce panic, to keep us a calm and satisfied family.” Calum hadn’t considered this before, had been stuck on the idea of it being unfair that Luke couldn’t return to his mother. But this was _his_ family, _Sarah’s_ family, _Maggie’s_ family.

“She’s trying to do the right thing.” The dark haired boy repeats. Sarah nods, smiling sadly up at him. “But she’s going about it the wrong way.” Calum adds, pushing himself away from the bed. The girl shifts beneath the covers, confused. “We can’t base what is a threat to us on her judgement alone. You’re right, we’re family, _all_ of us, we _all_ should make the decisions. A family falls apart without communication, by keeping secrets and failing to acknowledge one another’s views on things. She’s ignoring our interpretations on something, blinded by her fear of what she thinks is a threat. But this thing isn’t a threat.” He’s waffling, echoing the words he overheard Michael rant at Maggie, and something that he thought about in terms of his own family’s reaction to his Skills. Sarah genuinely just looks lost. “Luke’s not a threat. Luke’s part of our family!” Calum rushes out.

“What? Calum what are you on about?” He doesn’t acknowledge her questions.

“We need to change her view!” The eighteen year old declares as though it’s the simplest thing in the world, as though Michael hadn’t already tried. His enthusiasm, determination sparking in his brown orbs, the golden hues around the pupils practically flickering with the brightness of his thought. Always the hopeful boy for someone who is constantly left disappointed by the world.

 

**_19._**  

Luke Hemmings has never been good with confrontation or socialising in general. He discovered such when, after his dad had left, he found himself sat in the office of his head of year. She was a short plump woman with choppy dark black hair that didn’t even pass her ears, and was glittered with silver-grey strands. In her early fifties, her face was covered with wrinkles and decorated with freckles. Glasses always perched on her nose, she would peer over them to look at you, inspect you as though you were vermin or something she’d stepped in. Known as the Poisoned Dwarf, she stormed about the place like she owned it. And she scared the living shit out of Luke who was only thirteen at the time. Mrs Hammick, as he remembers her name to be, had been sat behind her desk, and Luke across from her as she not so kindly reminded him that his father was never returning and that he should man up quickly, get over it and get back to focusing on his grades. She’d been that fed up of waiting for him to stop crying, that she’d left him alone in her office for two periods until lunchtime. So yeah, it’s safe to say that fierce individuals having a go at him ends in him shrivelling up, curling into himself and wanting to sob. For that reason, even now present day Luke isn’t listening to whatever Maggie is saying.

But not only that, there’s like this cold sensation behind his eyes and a heaviness in his head that makes it difficult to concentrate. With every movement of his neck, it feels as though his brain is whooshing side to side, swimming about in the confines of his skull. It’s a surreal feeling, like seasickness, that makes him nauseous and yes, shit, he’s going to puke. He leans over the side of the bed as quickly as possible, not wanting to sick up on himself. Instead, he apparently vomits in the direction that makes it achievable for splashes to mark the toes of Maggie’s shoes where she is stood, face now contorted in an expression of outright disgust and anger. Well, if you’re going to come in, prepared to frighten the hell out of an eighteen year old boy whose head has just became one with tiled flooring and suffers with social anxiety, expect to experience a response you’re not fond of. Of course, Maggie most probably anticipated shouting, or for Luke to express or admit his ‘true evil nature’ that she argues he holds and not to be soiled in the contents of the boy’s stomach. He doesn’t even get the opportunity to apologise, words lost as he continues to chuck up, and somewhere amidst the embarrassing situation he’s found himself in, someone has placed one of those weirdly shaped sick buckets under his chin.

After a few minutes of highly humiliating dry heaving while Maggie’s eyes burn into him, a boy with a feather tattoo on his forearm pushes Luke backwards so he’s lying down again. He passes him a glass of water, and God is Luke grateful. The eighteen year old boy sips at it, feeling its coolness relieve the raw burning at the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry.” He croaks, he’s shaking, the water trembling within its glassy confinement. The clear liquid spills only slightly, running down his hand, towards his wrist and vanishes, seeping into the skin there. It results in a coldness running up his arm and spreading about his entire body to cool down his temperature from where he had begun sweating whilst vomiting. He doesn’t really understand this whole water thing he has going on but he also doesn’t have time to dwell on it as Maggie starts talking again, kicking off the black ballet pumps in a hurried fashion.

“What is with you?” She questions and it’s most probably rhetoric from her sarcastic tone.

Male with feather, oh and a line of black tattooed arrows up his arm, shakes his head and asks Maggie to leave. With an annoyed huff, she does as requested, leaving behind her destroyed shoes as she hobbles out on tiptoes. “Do you need more water?” The boy says softly. Luke shakes his head no, he’s only had a sip. “You sure?” He inquires, nodding his buzz cut head towards the cup in the blonde’s hand. When Luke follows his gaze, he sees that the glass is now empty. His mouth drops open. “Are you okay?” _Far from it_ , Luke thinks as his blue eyes are locked on the object in hand. This is certainly new.

The eighteen year old reaches out for the jug the male is now holding, his long fingers tingling as they brush against the plastic, feeling the condensation run down it. “I-I can do it, thank you.” His voice is wobbly, throat scratching with the vibration as a result of puking. As though reminded by its cause, the medic looks apologetic as he excuses himself to go get cleaning equipment. Luke feels bad really, because he’s never had anyone have to clean sick up after him and doesn’t find it fair that some male about four years older than him must do it.

Once alone, Luke inspects the glass in one hand, and the jug in the other. He doesn’t really understand why the water had cooled his temperature or where it disappeared to. It’s not hygienic, but Luke wants to try something and so hesitantly dips his finger into the transparent liquid. Suddenly the jug is being drained and he can sense this harsh coldness fly from his fingertips through his hand, up his arm and spread out. It only takes a few minutes to feel as though it reaches his toes and with the final drop now vanishing from the jug, Luke senses himself vibrate. A slight tremble just before he sees his fingers disappear before his eyes. Then his arm, his shoulder, across his torso and down the other arm, his lower half is now gone, legs too, followed by his feet.

“What the fuck!??” Luke yells, panicked. Because this has never happened before. It’s not like the other times where he held his body beneath the spray of water to watch it vanish, only for it to reappear gradually once he stepped away. No, this time, the water had seeped into him and slowly worked itself around his entire body until he became invisible. There’s no step out option for this.

You know right before the fall when he wished he could just disappear? He did not mean _literally._

Alarmed, his first thought of safety is to find Michael.

 

**_1_ _3 – two years earlier._ **

Blonde curls make her bob-cropped hair appear shorter, and so now it sits just above her shoulders. She wears a floral dress and tan ribbed tights, feet tucked into brown brogue lace ups. The petite girl is the picture of a sixties queen in the summertime, like she’s fallen from the past into this modernised future. Her choice of transport? Old bicycle with basket attached to the handlebar, of course. The wind flowing through her golden locks loosens the tight curls she opted for this morning, but she doesn’t care as she moves her legs faster and faster, feeling the burn in the back of her calves as she flies through traffic. She doesn’t have much time, she needs to get home _now._ My gosh is she late. The latest she has ever been in her whole twenty-three years of existence. There are tears in her eyes that make cycling on busy roads rather difficult. Blinking them away clears the blue orbs only slightly, but she continues to struggle to see what is in front of her. There’s a set of tears that fail to wipe away, even if she squeezes her eyes closed tightly. It is this that causes her to not acknowledge how she is now driving along the pavement and miss the boy in the stripy shirt.

The collision is brutal. Limbs knotting together, cries mixing with one another’s, pain radiating all over. A silence falls over them, except for the occasional gasp and sob as each try to move and disentangle. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Taylor is rushing out as she inspects the male crumpled on the cold street floor beside her. Both have various gashes along bare skin, red marks that are sure to bruise and Taylor’s left wrist _burns_ like she’s never experienced it before. But she was sure she hadn’t landed on it, could bet she fell down on her right side which wouldn’t warrant this sensation in her left.

Her tights are ripped where her knee had scraped across the gravel, little stones forcefully embedded in the wound that gushes a bright red. There’s a tear in the skirt of her dress were it had caught in the pedal of the bike and was shredded as she was thrown a foot away from the darn thing.

“Shit, my wrist!” The boy, whose fringe is covering grey-blue eyes, winces as he shields his arm into his chest.

Taylor was sure she’d done damage to his lower half, especially since she is still half sitting on his ankle, pinching it between her flesh and the street.

“Like, what the actual fuck?” The male then adds, suddenly angry. “Who the fuck _cycles_ on the pavement? You have your assigned bicycle lane, are you _that_ dumb?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so short, I would have seen you.” Taylor retorts, equally annoyed. She was already in a bad mood, practically acting out some pathetic rom-com film as she cycled home crying.

The boy actually looks a little surprised, if not slightly _impressed_ , by her reply before he is hauling himself off the floor, arm still held against the softness of his t-shirt. “I’m sure I could get you arrested for this, I wouldn’t be a sassy bitch with me if I were you.” And okay, so he _has_ a point, so Taylor pushes away her upset and falls silent. “Give me your number.” He barks out.

“Fuck no.” Because _excuse me_ , why was she getting hit on now when she had quite literally _hit_ on him with her full body.

“Not like that, Jesus, I’d rather you’d have suffocated me to death with your fat arse when you’d slammed into me than asked for your number for _those_ kinds of reasons.” He rolls his eyes. “In case I need to claim, dumbass.”

“Look, I’m late, and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this-” Taylor tries to say but he holds his hand up to silence her.

“I don’t need the excuses, just your number and then you can go ride into some other unfortunate person.”

Giving a sigh, Taylor recites her mobile number for him to save to his contacts.

“Hopefully, I won’t see you around again.” The male says as he’s leaving. “The name’s Louis, by the way, so you know the name of your victim.”

And with that, Taylor is left standing on the street, watching the figure of this Louis boy fade and disappear around a corner. “What a total douche!” She vents to no one as she turns around and _awesome_ , now she has to limp home with a sore wrist, dragging behind this broken bike. She’s definitely going to be scorned for being incredibly late.

 

_**13 – present day.** _

Twenty-five should be the age that one no longer holds grudges but here Taylor is, actually sure she’s going to throttle Louis Tomlinson as he peers over her shoulder and prods at the screen of her phone. “He’ll be awake by now. You’re going to be late.” He informs her as he opens the surveillance camera app, it loading slowly on the blonde’s useless phone. “And I’d hate to see the fallout of that. Considering it always ends up in disaster.”

Grunting in response, Taylor rolls her eyes and pushes out of the chair, making space between them. “You know, you think after two years, you’d come up with something new to mock me about.”

Ashton remains seated, Louis behind him, Taylor now stood in front, her knees knocking into his where she stands close to the sofa in which they both had been sitting just seconds earlier. He watches the pair’s interaction, a somewhat tennis match as each side makes hits and groans as they pass harsh comments between each other.

“It’s ironic, really, the girl who was always late being gifted with the Skill of controlling time.” The amused smirk really grinds on Taylor who wants to smack it off his face.

“Please don’t make me travel back to the time we met and ensure I rammed you down well and truly.”

“Then you wouldn’t have anyone to obsess over. You’d be so lost without your love for me.”

“Delusional.” Taylor says simply as she heads for the door. “I’m going to see Michael, don’t even consider following after me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, wouldn’t want him to have to tone down his affections towards me for the sake of not making you jealous!” He calls after her, she simply flips him off as she exits the room set about reaching the infirmary before her best friend wakes up.

 

_**8.**_  

Michael groans as his eyelids flutter open and is met with a frowning Taylor peering down on him. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice deep, groggy with sleep.

“You look like shit.” She replies, voice light considering the sadness in her eyes.

“You’re certainly not the picture of perfection either, I’ll have you know.” The red haired boy retorts, grunting as he sits up in the bed.

“Maybe because someone tried to project my own power back at me without warning or any skill.” The blonde rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have had to try if _someone_ hadn’t used her Skill on me in the first place.”

“Stop being such a whiny baby. You know I had to.”

“I wanted to get to Luke.” Michael sighs, shoulders dropping a little.

“And what good would you have been? You could barely stand. What? Did you want to join him in toppling down some stairs?” The sarcasm in her tone is unwelcomed by the nineteen year old who tells her to kindly go fuck herself. “Michael.” Taylor’s blue eyes are full of pity, he looks away from her. “You exerted too much energy and effort in being unable to disconnect from Luke. Ashton told me it’s the longest you’ve ever gone using that ability without conscious control.” She sounds so stern and superior that it makes him uncomfortable. “I’m surprised you’re doing so well considering. Ashton said-”

“Does Ashton want to learn when to keep his mouth shut?” Michael interrupts like a petulant child.

“Shush!” She smacks him gently and then resumes. “Ashton said,” The older girl emphasises the words because, in Michael’s opinion, she’s a cheeky little shit. “That the time you went connected to Calum for a long time saw you having nosebleeds and blacking out. You clearly didn’t have that this time around. Your connection with Luke must be really strong.”

“Yeah but irritating as fuck.” Michael adds, causing the girl to roll her eyes yet again. “He never shuts up. He’s annoying.”

“When you can say that without fondness sparkling in your eyes, I’ll believe you.” Taylor giggled.

This time, when he uses a string of profanities, they’re certainly not repeatable.

“Where is he?” Michael asks once the back and forth banter between the two best friends dies down. He is suddenly very serious, has been trying to ignore the niggling sensation that’s been eating away at him since he woke up. Was grateful that he awoke to Taylor who allowed him to calm down, mess about a little, so he could collect his thoughts.

“Infirmary.” She answers and instantly regrets it as Michael tries to get out of bed, throwing the sheets to the floor. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to see him!”

“No you’re not.” Taylor says, her thin hand fanned out on his chest as she gently pushes him back onto the bed.

“And why the fuck not?”

“Because no one is allowed in there.” The blonde bites on her red painted bottom lip, apparently nervous for this subject to have come up.

Michael’s nostrils flare. “Why?” He tries to ask calmly but there’s a sourness to his tone with obvious anger.

“He needs his rest, Michael.” The red haired boy goes to interrupt her explanation. “No, hear me out, people know about Sarah.” That shuts him up. He can only imagine the backlash that is causing with the other Banders. Noting his expression, Taylor continues. “Yeah, exactly. So Maggie is mad, is blaming Luke for it since she had to use her Skill on him and now both your boy _and_ Sarah have their own rooms here.” She gestures around the room. “I’ve never seen Mags so angry.”

“I have.” Taylor looks at him, waiting for him to go on. “Okay, so we were going to leave it until the whole connected minds thing wore off to get you in on this and well technically, we are disconnected so no one can be pissed at me.” The nineteen year old is waffling.

“Just spit it out.” She’s not angry, just really curious.

“Maggie thinks Luke is a threat.”

“Oh.” Is all the blonde manages but Michael can tell from her facial expression, from the way her shoulders tense that she understands the meaning behind that.

“Every threat must be dealt with before the rest of the Banders are alerted.” Michael echoes words Maggie once told the pair when they were sat around as the top five. It’s the reason why he, Louis and Taylor are so often placed on somewhat missions to spy on the government.

“What do you think she is going to do to Luke?” Taylor whispers.

“I don’t know, but there’s no rationality to her thoughts from what I’ve had access to.” He admits.Won’t even listen to my opinions of his character. How he is practically a 24/7 socially awkward and anxious individual. Says I’m not a reliable judge of character because apparently I’m too blinded by my boner for him.” He is being sarcastic, of course, but he can see where Maggie is coming from… maybe.

“What do I need to do?” And Michael would kiss her, he honestly would, for her loyalty to him, for offering to help even before he asked.

“I need to see what the new situation is first but the original plan was to-” He covers his mouth quickly, muffling curse words because he keeps forgetting now how there are eyes and ears all over the place.

Taylor’s eyes have gone wide at the sudden action but she seems to understand fairly easily once Michael’s words are echoing through her mind.

**_The initial plan was to have you put Maggie in freeze-frame for however long you could last  and get Zayn to transport Luke home to spend whatever time that was with his mum._ **

The older girl frowns.

**The amount of trouble that would get me in, Michael. It’s not like it wouldn’t be obvious that she’s lost hours of her life. She would know it was me.**

**_I know, but I could convince her otherwise. Say I manipulated the thought of doing it into your mind. Put the blame on me instead._ **

**I don’t know, Michael. I don’t want you to be in trouble either. I want to help you, of course I do, but I couldn’t live with myself if you took all the punishment.**

**_I can handle it._ **

**What makes you think she’d believe that you forcefully convinced me to freeze time for her? She knows I’ll do anything for you.**

**_But she thinks the Banders mean more to you. That you would put us as a collective before one of us._ **

Taylor seems to consider this. Michael, who currently has access to her thoughts, can tell she’s already willing to put Maggie on pause for however long for the sake of meeting Michael’s wishes.

**I know Maggie is smart in general, but damn is she dumb if she thinks I’d choose Louis, Jack and everyone else over you.**

The pair begin chuckling at that, locking gazes as they share the laughter between them. Like they’re in their own little world, everything else forgotten as they acknowledge the warmth that spreads through them both at the realisation that they mean so much to each other.

**_Thank you._** Michael’s gratitude evident in the tone he projects.

**Don’t thank me yet, this might not work out.** The blonde reminds him, always the realist.

**_I need to get to Luke. Assess the situation._ **

**I’ll see what I can do, just wait it out for now. Okay? You still need to rest up. How will you prove that you used compulsion on me if you look like you haven’t slept for a year?**

**_You have a point, Swifty._ **

**I always do.**

**_Why are we friends again?_** He laughs.

**Because it’s a Tuesday. Tuesday is Maylor day.**

And with that, she leans over the frame of the bed, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek and earning a sound of pretend disgust from the red haired boy who quickly wipes the palm of his hand down his face. Spinning on her heel, the blonde says her cheerful goodbye and goes to exit, whipping her phone out of the pocket of her dress out of habit and suddenly stops, hand frozen on the doorknob.

“What’s wrong now?” Michael asks, worried. She returns to his bed side in three simple strides, holding the mobile towards his face. It’s open on the surveillance app, Michael has it on his own device too. He’s met with the image of three figures, easily identifiable as Maggie, Louis and Jack. They’re stood in what looks to be a corridor of the infirmary, clearly in heavy discussion, the leader’s hands pulling through her hair repeatedly looking distressed. “Is this outside my room?” His eyes flutter up to Taylor’s.

She licks her lips and through a solemn tone answers. “Yes.”

As though knowing she was being talked about, Maggie is through the door, throwing it open with such aggression, Michael is surprised it hasn’t come away from its hinges. “What the hell?”

“Where is he, Michael?” Their leader growls. She looks out of place. Customary crisp white lab coat nowhere to be seen, light pink crumpling shirt tucked out from the tight grey pencil skirt and strays of hair escaping her usually well-kept ponytail. She is bare foot, too, and there is a strange smell that enters the room with her that causes Michael’s nose to scrunch up.

The red haired boy blinks, eyelids like weights still but prised open with the shock of the situation, at the hostility of the woman who used to treat him like he was her child. “Who?” He asks, but he knows exactly which ‘he’ she is referring to.

“ _Luke_ , Michael, where the hell is he?” She’s at the edge of the bed now, her knees knocking into the post as she attempts to get closer to him.

“How am I supposed to know? I’ve been sleeping here.” There is no lie to it. “Last time I saw him was the cafeteria.”

She makes a noise that demonstrates her clear frustration. “I swear to god, Michael, if you see him, _when_ he comes to you, and you don’t notify me immediately,” Maggie pauses, the silence that follows like a heavy tension in the room.  “this will not end well for you.”

Michael pays not heed to her melodramatics, rolling his eyes before giving her a look of disapproval but internally, he is highly distressed. He’s got the update he required about the situation without either he or Taylor going to investigate. But the situation is worse off than he anticipated.

**_Where is Luke?_ **

There is only one way he would be able to discover such so effortlessly. Something that Michael currently cannot do in his exhausted state. Something that caused them to be in this current mess in the first place.

A bloody conversation connection.

“I expect you all to comply.” Maggie purposely looks at Taylor and Louis now. Louis behind her, nods, looking eager to complete his task and follow his order. Michael could punch him. But Taylor, as though expecting his reaction, has her hand firmly on his forearm, squeezing in comfort, as she glares over at Louis like she’s about to end his life herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no rest for the wicked eehhh??
> 
> btw i'd like to thank you all for your kind comments and kudos so far, you’re all really sweet and lovely to talk to (: please don’t be afraid to ask for my tumblr url should you want to ask further questions (considering i leave like a million things currently unanswered in the fic) or just chat! <3
> 
> if anyone is wondering where i am going with this, i promise you there is a direction. i have a plan and everything.


	10. give up, give in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: maggie is a meanie to luke, maggie is a meanie to michael. maggie is a meanie in general. and now luke has done a good old vanishing act thanks to the side effects of sarah's healing skill affecting his invisibility-watery thingy. he's MIA and that's a big no no to maggie who thinks luke is a threat.
> 
> now: i use far too much water imagery that the update's practically /overflowing/ with it (get it?? i am so funny i s2g)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends,  
> again, i use taylor's narrative, but this time, please note that 'n.d.' means "no date" - that is purposely done.
> 
> in terms of updates, i don't know when i will post the next chapter bc my exams and birthday are next week? but i will try, please don't hold out any hopes. just be patient with me *U* they will come eventually.

**_13 – n.d._ **

The nerves make every sense excited, fingers twitching down at her sides and she’s watching the clock on the wall tick by, its hands moving slowly. _She’s_ supposed to be the late one, not Michael. Where the hell is he?

Suddenly, as though the connection they’ve failed to train to improve is suddenly perfected and Michael heard her thoughts, the red head barges through the door. Looking dishevelled, exhausted, _pained_. Taylor’s eyes have gone wide, hears herself give a gasp, noting as it gets drowned out beneath Luke’s cry and Michael’s shout.

“There you fucking go!” Michael roars, near enough throwing Luke at Maggie. The leader looks taken aback, entirely shocked that it is _him_ of all people to bring the boy to her. “Well?” And god does he sound pissed and completely done with the whole thing.

“Thank you, Eight. I’m glad you understood the seriousness of the situation and respected my judgement and authority.” The older woman near enough sing-songs, dusting down her lab coat as she takes the blonde by the upper arm, fingers digging into the flesh there. “Now, water baby, I’m sure you know why I have to do this.” She takes a set of handcuffs from the pocket of her coat, wrapping the cold metal around Luke’s pale wrists. A sharp silver band clashing with the ring of blue. “Do you have anything to say? Hmm?” The blonde’s thin lips remain pressed together in a tight line and he closes his watery eyes. “No? What a shame.” She claps her hands together. “Jack, if you could do me the honours.” Jack looks hesitant, looking at Michael for verification as to whether this is okay. The red haired boy just turns his face away from the scene. When Jack has left with Luke and is out of hearing range, the Bander leader adds “It is for the best, Michael. For everyone.” She reaches out to stroke his arm, something she’s done regularly throughout the time they’ve known one another.

“Don’t touch me.” His voice is low, a slight warning as he takes a step back.

“I’m doing this to protect you.” She says with a sigh.

“No, you’re doing this to protect _yourself._ ”

“I suggest you go to your room, Michael, to give yourself some time to calm down.”

“You’re not my mother.” He reminds her, his tone blunt. And _wow_ , does she look angered and upset by that. He’s clearly hit a nerve. Taylor’s always knew that Maggie treats the boy like he is her son. Didn’t realise how much Maggie _felt_ and meant it until now.

“Go to your room, Eight.” This time there is no attempt at softness, her voice now only expressing command and control. “Or I’ll have you handcuffed there, too.”

Michael rolls his eyes, a look of complete disgust on his face as he charges out of the room.

 

**_8 – present day._ **

When Maggie leaves, Louis is the first to make a move out of the three remaining, closing the door after their leader with a polite smile plastered to his face. But when he turns back around, he whistles out low and shakes his head. “What the fuck has gotten into her?” That causes Michael to blink away the frustration building up on seeing the elder male agree to Maggie’s demands. “I mean, I don’t really know him well, haven’t even had the chance to hear the boy speak,” He looks to Michael with a smirk on his features. “But he looks so mousy. I’ve seen him cry and blush far too many times as it is. Lives up to the name ‘Water _Baby_ ’ that’s for sure…”

The red haired boy rolls his eyes at the comment and clears his throat, preparing to scream at Louis for being a two-faced little shit and scaring him into thinking he had broken his trust. But when Michael turns to his best friend, on seeing the blonde’s eyelashes flutter, looking slightly like she’s about to be sick, it stops him. Instead, he reaches for Taylor where she is sat beside him on the infirmary bed. “Future or past?” He questions, knowing that expression well. She remains silent.

“Future.” Louis answers for her, remaining standing but now edged closer to the bed, knees pressed into the mattress as he leans against it. “It’s just a guess from the constipated look on her face.” Taylor doesn’t even say anything. Not even some retort to snap back at the mocking male.

“Taylor?” Michael doesn’t think he can handle the stress of this entire situation anymore.

“Future.” She mumbles. Michael is frightened by the blonde’s response to the snippet of time her future self has experienced.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” He whispers. Taylor gives a nod. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Emotionally, yes… Luke, Maggie. You, mainly.” She answers. Michael inhales, a shaky breath.

“What happens?” Louis asks, sitting down in the middle of them, forcing them apart so he can fit in enough to comfort them both; his hand settling on Taylor’s thigh and pressing fingers into the flesh there, adding a little pressure to urge her on.

“You give him up.” The female finally catches Michael’s eyes. Louis’ head whips to the side, eyes burning into the red head, who can see his own panicked expression in the reflection of the silvery-blue. The younger boy’s stomach drops, colour draining from him. Both friends are waiting for him to say something. _Anything._ But Michael’s head has gone blank. Clear as the most transparent of waters for the first time in two months. He’s not used to the silence. It has a slight buzzing sound to it, a sound he associates with Calum sometimes whenever they’re connected. It sounds wrong. _Feels_ wrong. He’s used to drowning in the wide bodies of thought. The words that swim passed and he fails to catch when he’s not giving his full attention. He needs the crashing waves of emotion and flooded, overwhelming feelings. But there’s _nothing._ It’s like he’s just floating, a lone buoy along the water. The nineteen year old’s mouth has gone dry.

“You don’t give him up.” Louis says, always the first to say something when among the three. Taylor gives him a look that says ‘I’m not lying’ ‘I’m not joking’ ‘I saw this’ and he just stares her down for a moment. Evidently a telepathic conversation occurring between the two who don’t even have such a Skill. Just the ability to know one another well enough, read each other’s expressions to speak without words. The blonde sighs, seemingly defeated as Louis looks determined to continue. Michael still hasn’t said anything, both of his friends now with their bodies turned to him. “Hear me out.” He reaches for Michael’s chin, making sure the younger boy is giving him his attention. “ _Hear_ me out.” Louis repeats, now aiming those ‘readable without words’ eyes onto him and the red haired male clicks.

 **Give me in.** Louis’ voice echoes around the vastness, interrupting the unwanted, unpleasant calm Michael had been experiencing.

**_What?_ **

**Me, Michael, give me to Maggie.**

**_I’m not following._** Michael is still in a state of shock. Chants of **_IgivehiminIgivehimin_** now rushing through his mind, like a heavy rain storm falling, clouding his mind.

 **Mirror Man.** His tone is one of someone really trying to breakthrough, like he is talking softly to a child who is struggling to comprehend. Michael feels like he’s acting that way to warrant such a thing. **Give me Luke’s voice and I’ll buy you time. Clearly Maggie is out of her mind right now and I don’t want to think what she would do if she had him. I mean, I don’t know what is happening per se, just that she wants him. But I can put the pieces together, I can see she’s acting like he’s a threat. And we’ve seen what she’s done to real threats.** Michael shudders, Louis cringes. **Give me his voice, give her Luke. Just not the Luke she wants.** His voice stops ringing through Michael’s mind for a moment, until he suddenly adds. **Don’t give her the Luke you want.**

The nineteen year old boy isn't aware of when he started crying, is used to Louis picking on him whenever he has done it in the past (okay he didn’t expect the ending of Remember Me to be like that, like _fuck off_ that is a sad film! Louis has no heart! Or so Michael declared for the week following as the elder male called him out for sobbing like a child). And so, he doesn’t anticipate the arms that wrap around him, and then the thinner, paler ones that follow to signify Taylor’s addition to the hug. She doesn’t know what has been said, Michael’s not entirely sure that they’re going to tell her either from the piece of future evidently shocking her, but she must sense that whatever Louis had to say was his usual practical solution, like the leader he should be (though she’d _never_ tell him such, his head is big enough in her opinion).

Michael doesn’t know when he got to this point. Having friends who care for him like siblings willing to give up everything, of course in the sake of preventing their leader from going all high and mighty, potentially being damaging to where they stand within the line of society if she continues on this path. But mainly, for doing it _for him._ So he can get the thing he wanted though never had to voice. The thing he has gotten so at home with in over a year but hasn’t felt the intensity of until the last few months. All the flooding, constant thoughts, that engulf and exhaust him, having him straining to keep his head above the water just to stop from drowning under its pressure, but something he is willing to die trying for. The thing that he tells himself he hates but feels empty when he’s not experiencing. Like he isn’t himself without the voices flowing through his mind. All of which that comes with his Skill, but more so in just _being around_ Luke. The boy whose thoughts never stop. Come rolling in like a rushing, harsh river whenever he enters the room. Enters Michael’s mind. But sometimes, Michael thinks the boy never leaves. That the blonde is always in his thoughts. Ever since the day Luke opened his door to him, hearing the initially amusing thought that told Michael that this blue eyed innocent thing found him appealing. It had been instant. Anchoring onto Luke’s mind like it was so easy. Like two ships sailing in synchronisation, beside one another, along the tranquil of the water, close but not close enough to crash and sink. There was no effort to it, as he had experienced every other time he had attempted to get a read on someone, or just a few seconds of focussing. No, he didn’t get that with Luke. It was all too easy. All so natural. But, entirely out of the blue.

"Let's do this." He says into the fabric of Louis' top, pulling back from their embrace. The older boy shrugs Taylor off him, trying to make the red haired boy laugh as he makes a disgusted face and calls her out for being too clingy. The girl thumps him in the back in response. 

Tucking blonde curls behind her ear, Taylor becomes more serious. "What exactly are we  _doing_?" She bites on her lip, smudging the red painted there, little bits of pinky-red imprinting on the whites of her teeth.

"We're giving him in." Michael looks to Louis, a little unsure. Taylor seems horrified by the idea.

"But Michae-"

Louis cuts her off with a firm "Maggie wants Luke, we comply as requested." So they're not telling Taylor the plan then.

"I can't fucking believe you, Louis." She spits out.

"The mirror only shows you what you want to see, Taylor." He growls back, hinting that there is more to it. The pair both narrow their eyes at each other, not looking away as though in competition to see who would break the hold first.

“Okay.” Michael cleared his throat, reminding his friends that he was still in the room. They still don't tear their eyes from each other. Really desperate to get on with the task, wanting to look for Luke before anyone else gets to him and prevents them from using Louis' Mirror Man move before it's even initiated, he adds, clearly irritated when he says “When you’re finished flirting I'd like for-" He doesn't get to finish the sentence before Louis has pushed him off the bed forcefully.

"Go find Luke, you prick!" Louis frosty glare now on him instead. Michael's not going to be told twice as he pads barefoot out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna puke at how lame this sounded  
> sorry  
> but now you can't hate louis... as much... if his intentions are genuine ofc (;  
> oh and thank you for reading!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> i should probably go to bed lmao. but please let me know what you think (:


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